


Of monsters and lovers

by Cycian



Series: Flightless birds [1]
Category: Overwatch (Video Game)
Genre: F/F, M/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-11-20
Updated: 2018-08-10
Packaged: 2019-02-04 20:22:53
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 24,935
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12778803
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Cycian/pseuds/Cycian
Summary: Working with Moira O'Deorain is no small task. However, you form an unlikely bond with the scientist.





	1. Chapter 1

When you were first assigned as Moira O’Deorain’s assistant, which was just a cover-up for being a supersized human guinea pig, you had to admit that you were quite scared. Well, scared doesn’t even begin to cover just how utterly terrified you were.   
You rarely saw the scientist, she’d often grab a plate from the mess hall, and walk back to her lab, when she actually remembered to eat. She seemed to keep to herself most of the times, or at least, around your friends. Perhaps the upbeat Lùcio, the loud Reinhardt, the ever so overjoyed Lena, maybe they were not to her taste.   
When you finally entered the lab, a fearful knot of your guts pulsing in your stomach, you were not so surprised of the cleanliness of it, everything was immaculate. Even the rabbits in their cages looked peaceful. Everything was neat, and orderly, folders stacked on two neat sides, which was quite the welcomed change, as you recalled Angela’s office, a turmoil of mess, papers on every available surface… You coughed, trying to attract the redhead’s attention.   
Her head poked from behind a paravent, she stared at you with a slight smirk, and even though you were awfully good at reading people, the scientist was even more skilled in the art of hiding her own emotions.   
“Y/N, I suppose?” She asked, walking towards you in her usual lab coat, with a black shirt underneath.   
“Yes, Doctor O’Deorain.” You stood in a military posture. She circled around you, like a shark around its prey.   
Her eyes were vibrant, azure blue, and blood red, that was a most magnificent combination, one that brought out the detail of her chiselled cheekbones, of her sharp jaw.   
You did not see her in the mess hall yesterday, nor had you seen her there on the day of your first official meeting with O’Deorain, so after asking a couple of questions to Athena, you decided to bring some food to your new superior.   
And as you felt her gaze upon your skin, you just panicked, and held up her lunch bag in front of you.   
She stopped her examination, her eyebrow raised.   
“Dare I ask what that is ?”   
“I thought you might be hungry, I haven’t seen you in the mess hall in a long time, so I kinda thought that it’d be great to bring you something.” You babbled, under her scrutiny.   
After a short moment of silence, contemplative on her behalf, absolutely mortified on yours.   
You looked up sheepishly, to find quite a rare sight. Her silence was not contemplative, at all. She was red from holding up her laughter, which finally burst in a glorious chuckle, followed by many others, to your delight as you joined in.   
You were definitely not thinking about sharing a bizarre burst of laughter with Moira O’Deorain, of all people, about something as trivial as your awkwardness.   
She wiped a tear from the corner of her eye.  
“I’m sorry, Doctor O’Deorain…” You scratched the back of your head nervously.   
“Call me Moira, after all, we shall spend a lot of time together, and were you to say my title each time you address me, we’d both die of old age before getting any kind of work done.” She grabbed the lunch bag, peeking inside.  
You were hoping she’d appreciate your selection, you grabbed what she seemed to like the most.   
She hummed appreciatively, fishing out a sandwich, as she detailed what you both had to do for the day.   
And to say that your work was exhausting was no exaggeration, Moira was a perfectionist, everything had to be done just the right way, which just so happened to be her way. You learned that she appreciated literature, of any kind. When you asked for more details, she said that she was quite interested in Japanese, French, and Irish literature. You were quite puzzled, how could that woman find the time to read what you guessed were lengthy books, when she was making breakthrough after breakthrough.   
At the end of the day, you were beyond tired, it felt as if your soul simply left your mortal coil to seek repose elsewhere.   
Moira invited you over to the couch, hidden by the paravent, and you simply rested for a few minutes, before fetching dinner for you and the doctor.   
The two of you ate together, while watching TV, some weird talk show about science, you didn’t exactly love it, but Moira occasionally chuckled, and that was enough for you, if your boss was happy, then so were you. 

You both fell into an easy, simple routine. You had breakfast with your friends, while Moira was still asleep, tired after long nights of researching and testing, despite your disapproval. Then, you headed to the lab, three cups of coffee, two cups of tea, and started the machines and the computers.   
You two would work till 1PM, before you went back to the mess hall, to grab whatever was available, your shift ended at 7PM, and you would bring dinner to your superior. You’d eat while binge watching whatever stupid talk show Moira was engrossed with at the moment.   
It was Halloween. To your delight, you were quite fond of the holiday, you found it funny, carefree, it was a nice moment to have fun with your friends and colleagues. It was also a great opportunity to make friends, watch tons and tons of scary movies while rotting your teeth with candies, to Angela’s utmost despair, who tried giving out apples and other healthy snacks, the only ones really paying attention being Aleksandra and Fareeha. One caring for her waist line, the other for the doctor herself.   
The agents took turns cooking. It was a really nice custom, it allowed the agents to have tasty, rich meals, from different countries. The agents often cooked in pairs, with their co-workers or friends. When your name came up, Lena, Reinhardt, Lùcio and Hana were pretty sure that you were going to pick one of them to help you out. But you didn’t.   
It was quite hard for you to do. You didn’t want to ruin the comfortable relationship between you and your superior. But still, you felt like this was something that you would both enjoy.   
She knew something was up with you the second you stepped into the lab. She twirled her chair around, a cigarette in her hands.   
“Yes, dear?” Your poor heart wasn’t exactly ready for the pet names. She walked up to you, she had taken off her usual lab coat and shirt for a coal-black shirt with a red tie which complimented her eyes.   
She tucked a stray hair behind your ear, and your felt your skin shiver with the touch of her nails.   
Moira stepped into your personal space, her body almost pressed against yours, as she leaned down and whispered into your ear.  
“Let’s start cooking now, shall we?” Her voice was low, husky.   
Moira was an amazing scientist. She was extremely smart, ingenious and meticulous. When working on chemistry, she was precise, her science was exact, sharp as her scalpel. Or nails.   
But cooking with Moira was… an experience. The initially well-spoken, well-behaved scientist was currently screaming in Gaelic at a burning plate, as you were frantically trying to extinguish the fire.   
You thought putting some music on was a great idea, but your playlist was over, and Moira listening to the same songs on repeat over and over again might lead to your inevitable doom.   
“I’ll take care of it, why don’t you put on some music?” You asked as you unplugged your phone.   
She nodded, you felt yourself smile as David Bowie started to sing. You shook your head, that one was extremely predictable. But what was not predictable, was the next song. As soon as Starman was over, some guitar played wildly, as some people started to sing along in Japanese.   
You heard more than saw Moira fumbling to her feet, as she had to crouch to pick up the ashes of her latest try.   
“Wait, is that Naruto?” You asked. She turned her hear in your direction, you could see in her eyes and the tightness of her lips that she was absolutely mortified.   
You decided to help her out. As she turned to change the music, you grabbed her hand, to hold her back, and with the other one, you grabbed the sponge with which you were trying to clean counter, and started singing along.  
“We are fighting dreamers~” She looked at you as if you had gone mad, and you decided to really go over the top. If Moira was embarrassed of her own tastes of music, then she’ll go the extra mile to make her feel better about liking it.  
“What? I love that song!” Without a second thought, you jumped on the counter. It was at that precise moment that Hana and Lùcio entered, convinced that you were going to pick one of them to be your partner. Then they saw you, dancing on the counter to a Naruto OP like there was no tomorrow, and Moira, covered in flour, ashes and various bits of meat.   
Lùcio was ever so good at reading people, and he knew you better than you knew yourself, so he just jumped on the table with you, and started singing along with you, joined by Hana. You looked at Moira’s smiling face, and you grabbed her by the sleeve, and pulled her up with you, so that she could join.   
The song finished too soon to your likings, but you were out of breath, your cheeks had turned a quite agreeable shade of red, but most importantly, you were smiling, and so were the rest of your friends, Moira included.  
“I can’t believe we just did what we did.” Stated the bedazzled scientist.   
“Nor can I, but it was totally worth it, wasn’t it?” You smirked, and you could read the slight surprise in her eyes.   
She nodded, and you could almost see the hint of gratefulness on her face.   
You went back to cooking, with Lùcio and Hana’s help, which was more than welcome, and avoided several disasters that could’ve potentially destroyed the mess hall.   
At first, Moira was feeling uncomfortable, fidgeting with her long, long nails. But Lùcio and Hana had their way with people, by exchanging stories, and asking a few questions about her work, they were able to make her feel better.   
Seeing Moira being social, chuckling to Hana’s wisecracks, made you feel a tad giddy. You knew that despite what she might say, she did not exactly excel in social matters. Sure, she was extremely polyvalent, knew how to manipulate people, and was a prodigious doctor, otherwise, she would’ve never been able to get her place in Oasis. She hardly saw anyone but you, and actively avoided the other agents. ‘Cannot afford any distraction’ She said. You felt like chuckling, as you saw her laughing with Lùcio at Hana’s expense.   
She did talk to Gabriel, but those occasions were far-in between. You wondered if she missed Talon, perhaps she felt out of place in Overwatch, even though she used to work for the Blackwatch. Your thoughts were interrupted by the insistant beeping of the oven.   
You pulled out the cookies, and smelled them.   
“Hmm, you’re getting great at this, Moira.” You said without thinking.   
You raised your head when you received no answer, no sarcastic quip, no noise of agreement. She looked at you as if she was seeing you for the first time. And then, a smile broke her lips. Not a smirk, not even a grin. A smile, huge enough for her to narrow her eyes slightly, and you couldn’t help but smile back.   
You put the tray on the counter, walking over to your superior, and hugging her.  
“Happy Halloween!” You could feel her freeze in your arms, and for a moment, you were afraid you had overstepped your boundaries. She raised her own arm, and held you back for just a few seconds, but those moments mattered to you. You heard what pretty much everyone said about her. When you got assigned with Moira, you were scared shitless. They called her a monster, a soulless scientist, willing to sacrifice anything and everything for knowledge.   
But you knew that she was just a woman, perhaps she made some mistakes along the way, but that did not mean that she was a blood-thirsty madwoman.   
That was until you had seen her fight.   
The base got attacked. You didn’t know how, but it did. You were peacefully sleeping in your quarters when the alarms came to life. You did not possess any kind of power, you were not an exceedingly good shot, but you knew how to shoot a gun, and figured that some of your friends might require some help.   
You hastily put on some basic combat armour over your old army uniform, grabbed your gun, a box of ammo, and you dashed for the labs.   
The lab you shared with Moira was empty, so you ran for Mei-Ling’s door, afraid that harm might have come to the sweet Chinese girl.   
You burst through the door, only to find a few bodies. Completely frozen. Mei appeared from behind one of the victims.  
“Oh, hey Y/N! Nice to see you!” She waved, as if she had not murdered in cold blood half a dozen of men that could’ve crushed her.   
“Mei, are you okay?” You asked, worried.  
“Of course! Why wouldn’t I be?” She smiled, and at that moment, you were quite certain that no one is the great organisation that is Overwatch, was sane.   
The deafening sound of an explosion echoed over your heads, some rubble falling from the ceiling.  
“Shit, they’ve taken the fight to the courtyards, they’ll be on us soon.” You snarled, gun still in hand.   
“They must’ve pierced our defences. Never thought I’d say this, but I hope Jamison made it out alive.” You both ran for the exit, bracing yourselves against the door, trying to catch your breath.  
You counted your bullets, 12 rounds. You wished you had a rifle, but there wasn’t much to do.   
Behind you, you heard the walls caving in. You looked at your friend.  
“Mei, listen, they could really use your help to defend the ramparts.” She knew what you meant.  
“That’s a death sentence!” She grabbed your hand, you didn’t dare to look at her. Before you were assigned to Moira, you used to work with Mei, you used to be a great team.   
“If we lose any more ground, that’s a death sentence for the rest of us!” You yelled. You never yelled at Mei-Ling. She didn’t say anything, her eyes just filled with tears. She still had your hand in hers. She opened your palm, placing a weirdly shaped pen.   
“When it will be too much, when you think you are done for, stab this into your arms, and press the button, okay?” She looked up, and you could see her trying her best not to cry.   
“I will. Now, go!” You urged her on her way, so she could not see the tears forming in your eyes. You were no soldier, but you were ready to die like one. 

You slid the pen in a little cavity on your bracer, before knocking the door open. There were many Talon soldiers in the courtyard, you freezed as they turned toward you.   
You grit your teeth, raising your weapon, and shooting. Suddenly, you were extremely grateful for the times you agreed to accompany Hana on her shooting lessons with Morrison.   
One down, the second barely had the time to raise his gun, his head already had a clean hole through.   
You ran for cover, the sound of guns shooting was simply ear-splitting, you whimpered, feeling something warm dripping against your temple. You didn’t have to check to know that it was blood. You jumped over your cover, shooting straight for the head, but they were too many. You couldn’t take all of them down. You didn’t feel the bullets piercing your skin and your organs, but you felt the shock, you fell to your knees, weakly grabbing at Mei’s present. You put the needle against your skin, and pushed the button. Suddenly, the pain was gone, the taste of blood was all you could feel. Metallic, warm, and kind of cold at the same time, it was thick.   
You rolled on the ground, you wanted to look at the sky, if it was the last thing you were to see.   
Instead, your eyes were stuck on your enemies, they were laughing at your demise, at your failure, at your death. You were smart, you knew you just wouldn’t make it. One was coming, his step heavy, his gun raised to your head.   
A blur of colour knocked him down. Sharp nails made quick work of him, his throat ripped open. The other soldiers raised their weapons to shoot at the intruder, at this… creature. But an orb, oozing deep purple came their way, and you witnessed horror. Their eyes started bleeding, they fell to the ground, coughing up blood, screaming in agony.   
A sniper fell from his secluded spot, and aimed at the monster. A strange filament of the same colour of the orb erupted from its opened palm and the man shook, as his cries filled the now quiet courtyard.   
Reaper appeared behind the monster. He pointed over at you, the monster turned around. It was Moira. Bloodied, covered in gore, but it was Moira O’Deorain. At that exact moment, you understood why they called her a harpy, a monster. And you also understood why she always wore gloves. Her nails were straight out of a horror movie, covered in blood and ripped skin.   
She ran towards you, wiped the blood from her face with her sleeve, which only smudged some more blood.   
“Y/N, hold on!” She held your hand, and when you looked into her eyes, she wasn’t such a monster, but nor was she just a woman.   
In her eyes welled tears unshed, and upon your lips, words unsaid.   
“Reyes, hold them back I’m taking her to our lab!” She carried you in her very own arms, and damn, she was strong.   
She dropped you on the cold, cold table, the one you cleaned of blood so many times you had lost count, and you thought that this time, you wouldn’t have to clean it up.   
You still had something to tell her. You had seen her monstrosity, her flaws.   
There were so many things you could’ve focused on. The ceiling tiles were uneven, you thought that Satya will be less than pleased, or the regular drops of blood hitting the floor, in a melodious ‘flic-floc’. You could’ve also focused on the lights flashing in front of you, of the burst of angelic blonde hair, assisting a frantic, demonical redhead.   
Yet, all you could focus on was Moira. Her face, her eyes, her hands, the way they worked, ticked, how deft they were, how soft they felt, despite the rough surfaces running across her palm. Her eyes, oh, how marvellous were they, when they were overcome with emotion.   
You thought about those eyes, drowned in tears and sorrow, when the pain of today becomes the grief of tomorrow, when her hands will shake as they will take your name off the door, a final reminder of your tragic ending.   
All you wanted to do was call for her, tell her how you felt, how delightful she was, how much you enjoyed her company, even if it was just her complaining about Angela making her lose her time with her ‘goddamn ethics’, or listening to music in the lab while sharing a ‘god-awful’ bottle of wine Moira bought. You looked it up on the internet, it was worth twice your salary.   
Classis Moira. You chuckled fondly at the memory, the weak noise left your lips, attracting the redhead’s attention.   
“Stay with me my dear, follow my voice, and you shan’t be lead astray.” She held your hand as Angela cut through your clothes with steel scissors.   
“M-Moira…” You half-moaned, half-whimpered.   
“I am sorry. I hope that you will find in your heart the strength to forgive me.” Angela grabbed your other hand.   
“Y/N, I need you to know that I am not sorry for what is about to happen. You are not dying here, not today.” Her voice was raw with emotion, her jaw clenched impossibly tight. 

The light from the ceiling grew brighter and brighter, until your sordid surroundings faded away from your vision, as you took a sip of eternity. 

 

You woke up in a clean, small room. You coughed, you were plugged in to different I.Vs. You tried to move your fingers, it was perfect, you wiggled your toes against the soft sheet. You finally opened your eyes. The medbay. The aroma of cinnamon was Angela’s trademark, and so was the small box of swiss chocolate.   
You reached out for the box, when you saw your hand. Red and black. As if your veins were lava, and your skin ebony.   
You let out a shriek that could have shattered the windows, as you jumped out of bed. Your legs refused to obey, as you fell to the ground in a symphony of clatter, as your I.V fell to the ground. You unplugged it, carelessly. Angela burst through the door, gun in hand.  
“Y/N, are you okay, schätz?” She asked, sympathetically.   
You were hyperventilating, sucking in shaky breaths, tears running down your cheeks.   
“What have you done to me?” You whispered faintly, your jaw trembling with every breath you took.   
“I am sorry, I am so, so sorry, but we had no choice. You would’ve…” Angela didn’t dare to look at you, staring at the ground.   
“What have you done to me!?” You screamed, the strength of your own voice surprising you. You could feel your new hand pulsing with a dreadful wave of pure rage, it was as if your heart was now in your hand, beating.   
“There was no other way. You would’ve died, you are too young to-”   
You interrupted her mid-sentence, shoving her against the door with a brutality and force that was not yours.   
She fell to the ground, and in her eyes, you could read fear. Pure, unbridled terror.   
Without a thought to spare for the medic, you looked at the window. You jumped through the window, without a single moment of hesitation.   
Falling from the second floor should’ve killed you, but you felt the same energy in your hand flowing to your legs, and landed without a scratch. In front of a terrified Lùcio.  
“Christ, Y/N, are you okay?” He asked, and you could read concern in his eyes.   
He reached for a hug, but you dodged him, with a velocity that you had never had before.  
“Who did this to me!?” You knew the answer. You knew of only one person who could do such a thing. Angela would’ve enhanced your capabilities with implants, with tech, and yet, you felt that this was in no way tech. Someone had fucked with your genes, with your body.   
And there was only one person on this earth that was capable of such a feat.   
“Moira O’Deorain.” You answered, as your friend looked at you with a touch of sadness.   
“I’m sorry, if I had been faster, you wouldn’t have had to go there on your own.”  
You paid no attention to his words, as you ran for the lab. 

On your way to your- her laboratory, you literally ran into Mei. You made her fly against the corridor’s wall.  
“Rein-… Y/N?” You didn’t have enough time to dodge her embrace. She teared up in your arms, visibly shaking.  
“This was my fault, all my fault, you never should’ve gone there without me, I should have sent snowball, I shoul-” You stopped her self-loathed rant with a finger to her shaking lips.  
“Where is she?” You didn’t even need to tell her name, Mei-Ling knew.  
“On the roof, she’s on her smoking break.” Mei pulled back from the hug, scratching her neck, as if she somehow regretted sending you to the rooftops.   
You jumped more than climbed the stairs, and what would have been a most strenuous exercise was a simple formality, you felt stronger than you ever did before.   
You swung the door open, and found her, leaning on the edge, smoking a cigarette.   
She didn’t wear her tie, you had never seen her without one, and her shirt looked dirty, with coffee stains on it.   
“Took you long enough, dear.” The pet name made your blood boil, in a few long strides, you grabbed her by the collar, and your wrath turned to something else.  
“Look at what you have done to me, Moira. Take a good hard look.” You gestured to your mutilated hand, to its awful colour, to your reddening irises.   
“I did what had to be done. I could not just let you die.” She looked at you straight in the eye, not flinching.   
“You’re not even sorry?”   
“Not remotely. It was either this, or death.” She took a long drag, blowing smoke on your face.  
“Why didn’t you let me die?” You asked, feeling tears prickling your eyes. You cursed at yourself, now was certainly not the time to show any kind of weakness.   
“You know why.”   
“Why would I be asking, if I knew?”   
“You…” She marked a pause, you let her go, she braced her forearms on the edge, eyes set on the distance. Her pack of cigarettes was sitting right beside her arm. Her gloves were still torn and covered in blood.   
You grabbed one, and lit it up with her lighter. The sight of the said lighter would’ve made you laugh, had you not been devastated over your recent predicament. It had a nice picture of a cat, with its paws stretched towards you. You could almost feel the kitty purr.   
“You, you make me happy.” Her accent got thicker, as if a monster like her could feel any kind of emotion.   
“Do I, now?” The smoke burned your throat, but the pain was a temporary relief, it ground you, the smoke that left your lips was like the wool that was pulled over your eyes.   
This woman drove you insane.   
Because for all the hatred she had brought, she had a very simple reason. And that reason, was you. You who listened to her rants about science, you, who had been daring enough to embarrass yourself to make her feel better, to make her have fun.  
You, who had gone out of your way to make her feel welcomed, not ostracised anymore.   
You, who now looked at her like at a monster.   
“You probably think I am a monster, some kind of freak, of mad scientist who needs to be put down. Perhaps I am.” She stated. She stood, in her tall glory, smelling of cold coffee and smoke, with dishevelled hair and bags under her eyes.   
“If you are a monster, then, so am I.” Your monstrous hand held hers. You could feel her tense up against your fingers, as you removed her glove. She saved you, after all.   
“I will not thank you. I shan’t fall to my knees and let my head rest against your bosom, as nice at it may be.” She chuckled at that, a low, humourless chuckle.  
“‘Shan’t’ ? I am a terrible influence.”   
“Aren’t you though?” You smiled, for the first time since you woke up. It was not a full out blown smile, it was a pained, bittersweet smile.   
Almost as bittersweet as the taste of her lips. She turned to you, to look at you better, perhaps to throw a quip, or to nag you, but you did not give her the time. You grabbed her by her collar, torn and worn, bloodied and dirtied, and put your lips on hers.   
And Lord, did she kiss you back. Her hands flew around your waist, pulling you close, you buried your hand in her hair. This was no simple kiss. This was meaningful, it meant forgiveness, understanding.   
Your tongues danced against each other, not in rivalry, but in harmony.   
You both had to break for some air, but you dared not to part. You rested your forehead against one another, never breaking eye contact.   
Lost in her eyes, you had never noticed how truly wonderful they were. They seemed to gaze into your very soul, they were weary, they had seen so much death and destruction, so much pain and grief.   
Yet, you found yourself thinking that never in your whole entire existence, you had ever seen such beauty.   
The solemn beauty of a flower on an old, broken grave, the twisted exquisiteness of a single drop of blood on an immaculate rose.   
Yes, this kiss was meaningful. And as you rested your head against her shoulder, in the warmth of her embrace, you understood that this also meant home.


	2. Of Monsters And Expectations

Moira. This woman was simply driving you mad. Right when you thought you were back on the right track with Moira, having forgiven her for your... changes, she had to break your newfound peace. She was all about scientific progress, even if it meant putting you on the line.   
Feeling self-conscious about your new appearance, you decided to hide your lower face with a ‘mask’, which was actually an old black scarf, but it did its job. You covered your monstrous arm with bandages, it wasn’t much, but if you didn’t stare at it too long, you would not notice. About your reddening irises, there wasn’t much that you could do except wearing lenses. It hurt, and lessened your vision, but you simply wanted to look as normal as possible.  
At first, you thought that the tests she ran on you were legitimate, after all, she was behind the reason you were still alive. Even though, some days, you didn’t exactly feel alive. You didn’t feel tired, you felt weary. You rarely wanted to eat, and almost never got any sleep. Your new constitution allowed you to stay up for days, so you used that time to go up on the rooftops, looking down from the edge, wondering if such a fall could kill you.   
But the results of the test Moira ran on you showed that you would regenerate your hurt tissues at an extraordinary pace. She even called you a more performant version of the Reaper. It hurt. It hurt when you looked into her eyes, only to be met with professional curiosity.   
More often than not, you would think about that time on the same rooftops where you usually spent the nights, where you had also kissed Moira for the first time. You refused to evoke the subject, not out of fear of rejection, but because you did not understand why you kissed her. You were filled to the brim with hatred. Why in hell did she think she was qualified to change your life so?   
It had been weeks since you woke up, with this new aberration of a body, but except from Moira and Angela, you hadn’t spoken to anyone else. Not because you were afraid of what they might think about your changes, but because you simply did not want to talk to anyone.   
You simply wanted to be left to your own devices. They had sent get-well cards, you knew they tried to seek you out, but during the day, you were locked up in the lab, doing what Moira asked, not bothering to make small talk. You and the doctor never ate together, you didn’t bring her lunch anymore, she was old enough to make her own decisions.   
Even if her body didn’t have such a resistance against hunger and tiredness, you could not bring yourself to care about her feelings; not anymore. If your behaviour affected her in any kind of way, she did not show it, placid as ever, cold as a statue.   
During the night, you were on the rooftops, and when you were sure that there was no one around, you would grab a bite from the mess hall. Nothing nourishing, just enough to keep you going. The nights in the watchpoint were not always peaceful.   
Sometimes, a cry from an open window would echo, amidst the soothing sounds of the waves crashing against the rocks.   
When you felt curious, you got a bit closer to the window, listening. McCree would often get into fights with Hanzo, especially when the cowboy would blast country music at unholy hours, to his neighbour’s utmost dismay and irritation.   
However, their fights were not as frequent as some agents’ pained wails. Nightmares were a quite common thing in the ranks, and given their line of work, you were not surprised.   
But you never heard Moira cry out in her sleep. You figured that karma was a bitch. Mei didn’t deserve nightmares, nor did Angela, yet O’Deorain always slept soundly.   
Another injustice. But you somehow stopped caring. 

One day, you were smoking on the rooftops, eyes lost far away, trying hard to remember why you signed up in the first place, why you had ever joined Overwatch, when a peculiar voice spoke up behind you.   
“You’ve been coming here an awful lot, haven’t you?” The smooth, sarcastic and accented voice could only belong to Sombra.   
“And I supposed you’ve been spying on me for quite some times, yeah?” You didn’t even bother to turn around and face the hacker.   
“Ouch, ‘spying’? That hurts more than a bullet could. No offense.” She added, leaning on the railing, following your gaze.  
“What do you call it when you tail people?”   
“I was just checking up on you, it’s not like I wanted to get up each night to make sure that you didn’t jump to your death.”   
“Charming and caring as ever, Sombra. Who asked you to do this?” You took a long drag, looking at the Mexican woman from the corner of your eyes.   
“Moira, obviously. Well, she didn’t ask directly, but I can see when somebody’s worried sick, even her.”   
You raised your eyebrow, you hadn’t realised that Moira cared. But perhaps the hacker had misread the doctor. She was not exactly an open book.   
“What? You didn’t expect to have forgotten about you, did you?” The hacker helped herself, grabbing a cigarette from your pack.   
You did not answer, lost in thoughts.   
“She’s not the only one missing you, y’know. I don’t think I’ve ever seen Mei so down. Ana left a message in your room, and in case you’re wondering, no, I didn’t peek.”   
You perked up at Mei’s name. Poor girl had always been nothing but lovely and generous to you. However, you were somehow afraid of what you might say, what you might do. Your current predicament made you quite short-tempered.   
Making a mental note to check on Mei, if only from the shadows, to make sure that she would be doing okay, you thanked the hacker, heading to your old room. It was time to meet the infamous captain Amari.   
Your room was tidied, to your surprise. Angela must’ve taken care of it when she came to grab you some clothes. A post-it note was stuck on the table.   
“Meet me in the courtyard at 5 in the morning.” Ana’s lopsided signature looked a bit like kitty, it could’ve made you smile, were the circumstances not so dire. You guessed that Ana Amari didn’t bother to leave you a message for any kind of trifle. 

You checked you watch, it was about 4 AM, you used this time to make yourself as presentable as possible. You took a shower, tried your best to fix the mess on your head, before heading to the courtyard, remaining in the shadow of a willow.   
You heard a voice clear behind you.  
“It has been too long, habibti, but how did you think that standing under this tree would fool my vision?” Smiled Ana, placing a tentative hand on your shoulder.   
“I just wanted to be away from unwanted attention. I knew you would spot me in an instant.” You sat down on the bench, followed by the sniper.   
“You’ve been worrying the lots of us. It is tough to see you like…” She gestured towards your hand.   
“Like this?” You raised your unhuman hand, covered in bandages. You did not like to look at it, even though hiding it was quite useless.   
She nodded, looking away for an instant.  
“You remind me of Genji, right after he woke up...”   
You grunted in acknowledgement, waiting for her to resume her storytelling.   
“He isolated himself, the poor child was seething with hatred and resentment. He refused to look at himself in a mirror.” Her gaze was fixated on the horizon, on the rising sun.   
“How did he get over it?” You asked, looking at the sniper’s features, as if you were seeing them for the first time. You had talked with Ana plenty of times before, but you were nervous, too eager to please, you had looked away when she was looking at you, never really looking at her.   
Sharp cheekbones, alabaster hair with a tanned skin, for a most exotic and beautiful result. Her tattoo danced across her amber eye, still ablaze with an ever so present passionate flame.   
She looked at you, not like she once did, not with her motherly stare. She looked at you like she would look at a young soldier, a young stallion, not yet broken.   
“Work. Lot of work, dedication. In the end, he had to leave on his own journey, to find himself, to find humanity among all this tech and all these cybernetics.”   
“Perhaps I could learn from him.” You stated bluntly.   
“Yes. Hence why I asked you to come and meet me. You have abilities. According to O’Deorain, fantastic abilities. It would be a shame not to make use of them.” You felt your heart clench. They wished to use you, as a weapon. Had you not suffered enough?   
“So, you want to just throw me into the fray?”   
Ana looked hurt and pensive.   
“Not the first time I have heard this one. No, we want you to learn how to use your powers for the greater good, at least to make sure that you won’t hurt yourself, or anyone else.”   
“By making me kill other people? Have I not been through enough already?” You spat venomously, eyes narrowed.   
The Captain put her hand upon your shoulder, looking comprehensive. But how could she understand having your whole life, and death, turned upside down? You were willing to sacrifice your life to protect others, but you didn’t imagine that it would mean sacrificing your death as well.   
“You have. You have, my dear, but we cannot change what happened to you. Life gave you a weapon, you can use it for good, or against yourself.” Her grip on your shoulder tightened, trying to bring you any kind of comfort.   
You got up abruptly.  
“I don’t care about your philosophy, doing what’s ‘good’ never brought me nothing but troubles. I can never go back to my former life, I’m stuck in a rogue organisation, surrounded by people who only ever care about doing what they consider to be right, no matter the cost.” You paced furiously.   
“Has your so-called ‘greater good’ ever helped Reyes? Framing him was so great, now wasn’t it, but I guess having your name forever tainted and losing not only your life but also your natural right of dying ripped away is SO great, right?” And with that, you turned heels, leaving.   
Ana didn’t make a single move. As you furiously left in direction of the labs, she simply told you.  
“Tonight, go to the dojo. At least, try.”   
You were watching the ‘dojo’ from afar. Genji and Zenyatta were meditating peacefully. You almost chuckled at the obsolete construction. You guessed that the Cyborg ninja and the Omnic monk built it themselves. The wood structure was certainly not made to withstand Gibraltar’s changing of temperatures, and its frequent downpours.   
You watched for a while, and truth be told, even from where you were standing, it did seem quite relaxing. You could almost smell the sweet fragrance of incense burning amidst the lit candles. You made sure that your face was covered by your hood, and your hand by your glove and bandages. Figuring that just sitting would do no harm, you leapt from your spot, on top of the training ground’s entrance. Landing on one knee, you easily got up as if nothing happened, and slowly walked over to the dojo.   
You entered the room, trying to be as silent as you could. You sat down on the third cushion. You did not notice it from the roof. Relieved that nobody else could see you, you tried to control your respiration, even though your mask made it quite hard.   
“Breathe in. Count to three, release it slowly, until you are completely out of breath.” Instructed the Omnic, without looking at you.   
You furrowed your brows, before doing as you were told. After a few tries, you were able to slow down your breathing, the smell of incense was so… resting, and somehow sleep inducing. Your eyelids closed of their own accord, and you felt yourself drift.   
At first, you recalled memories of your childhood, it felt foreign. The aroma of incense was replaced by the sweet, sweet smell of cakes being baked, your ears filled with gleeful laughter. Your first kiss, the day you graduated. Then, you remembered your first encounter with the death of a loved one. It left a salty taste in your mouth, then you were transported to yet another painful memory.  
This courtyard. This goddamn courtyard. You noticed details you hadn’t noticed while you were defending the zone. The first time you killed. You did not have a second thought then, adrenaline rushing through your veins, your lungs heaving as you jumped under cover. The blue skies, the iron-like smell of blood on the warm pavement, the war cries, once muffled by the gunshots, were cries of vengeance, some of weeping. You wondered how you would react if Hana were to be shot down in front of you, just as you had killed their friend in from of them.   
You remembered your last stand, your lungs crying for air as they were pierced by metal, as blood slowly flooded them. You remember the bullet grazing your mouth, leaving a painful scar as a reminder. Moira described those as one of Torb’s worst inventions. Bullets enhanced to burn and explode when even remotely grazing their target. Once meant for the Omnium. Now used against humankind.   
Falling to the floor had been painless, but now, in this waking nightmare, you felt every single inch of your ground hitting the blood-soiled concrete.   
You recalled the instant before you died. It was not quite euphory, it was acceptance, understanding that it was the end, that it was finally goodbye. You noticed things you had never noticed, even if you had relived this scene so many times during your nightmares or whenever you heard a gun go off on the training grounds.   
Like your now monstrous hand, almost ripped off as their sharpshooter shot the gun out of your hands. There was so much blood, it was almost impossible to imagine that was yours.   
Reaper and Moira arrived, making quick work of those who had defeated you so easily. Some of them fled, the Doctor being too preoccupied with ruining your death and bringing you back to this joke of a life to chase them.   
You tried to get nearer to your body, but you were petrified, you couldn’t move. Suddenly, a surge of air filled your lungs, as you woke up from your trance with a cry.   
On your knees, you stood, chest heaving, tears running down your face, as you tried to catch your breath. You shrugged off the Cyborg’s hand from your shoulder. They immediately gave you some space, you did not even notice the monk’s orb floating around you.   
It did bring some comfort, like a faint feeling of warmth, but not even that could calm you.   
You could’ve left, you could have fled from the dojo, but you did not want to. You wanted to let yourself be carried by gentle hands, you wanted your wounds to be mended, but not from the Omnic, not from the team’s resident guardian angel, not even by the overly enthusiastic DJ. You wanted her. She had started this, she had made who you were.  
The ninja brought you a glass of water, you gulped it in one go, which soothed your sore throat. You took a moment to gather your spirits, before looking at the hand holding the glass. Your bandages were torn, your arm glowing red, it felt as if it were pulsing. You clenched your fist, shattering the glass easily. The shards dug into the palm of your hand, but you did not feel it, it was numb. You unceremoniously removed it.   
“Do you want to meet us tomorrow? The training grounds, at 8 in the morning.” Softly spoke Genji.  
You shrugged, before getting up and leaving towards the lab.   
The lights were still on. You fumbled with your card, refusing to use your crimson hand.   
The pulsing in your arm had ceased, at last, you enjoyed this slight moment of calm, were you to train with Genji tomorrow, you were not sure how it would react.   
The door slid open to reveal a dishevelled Moira.  
She looked up, seemingly unsurprised.   
“My last words.”   
She raised an eyebrow at that, her eyes travelling from your hand to your face.  
“Pardon?” She asked, putting her Erlenmeyer back on the cart.   
“What were they, my last words, in the courtyard.” You fumed, clenching your fist, feeling the unfamiliar pulsing coming back.  
“I am not exactly sure you want to know.” She stated, pouring two glasses of whiskey.   
“Would I be asking if I did not want to know?” You spat, grabbing your glass, downing it easily. While the warm feeling in your throat was welcome, it did not stop the anger boiling in your veins.   
“You would have nobody left but yourself to hate if I told you.” She poured you another one.   
“I /died/! I deserve to know the last words I spoke before you turned my whole life upside down!” You raised your voice, but she did not even flinch.   
She took a sip, running her gauntleted hand through her hair.   
“You deserve another chance at being alright. I shall not tell you. Go ahead, go ahead and break everything in this lab, try and punch me. I am used to it.” She did not move as you threw the glass against the wall, spilling the liquor on her labcoat.   
You snarled, closing the gap between you, grabbing her collar with your horrific hand, with the other hand, removing your contact lenses. She seemed to recoil slightly at the sight of your eyes. With how much they felt like they were burning, they must’ve been quite terrifying to elicit such a reaction from the doctor.   
“Do you like what you see, Moira? Do you enjoy the sight of your finest work, who desperately wishes to end it all, to be free, at last? Do you take any pleasure in knowing that I will never be able to leave, to go back to my old life? You took not only my life from me, but also my death. My death! Exiled, just like you, a monster to those who had once loved us!” You spat viciously. You tried to strike where it would hurt the most. You quickly went over everything you knew about her.   
“Are you happy now? Happy now that I only come out at night, that I rarely eat, just like you? Is your only goal to leave your wretched mark on everyone who meets you? Angela, Gabriel and Amélie, they all got their lives changed because of you, and not in a good way, trust me!” You gave her a chance to reply, but she did not. All she did was stare into your eyes, cold as stone, silent.  
“Sometimes, I wonder if you even feel. Remorse, guilt, hatred, happiness… Perhaps you got rid of your humanity, just like you tried to take Amélie’s away.”   
You released her. She did not move, towering over you.   
Turning heels, you looked over your shoulder.   
“They were right, you know.” And just as you slid your badge to open the door, not bothering to look back to gauge her reaction- you knew she was not capable of having one- you said:   
“You are a monster. You deserve to be alone, forever an exile.”   
Mei seemed to be on her way to her lab, bags under her eyes, snowball chirping over her shoulder.   
“Hey Y/N, I am SO glad to see-” You interrupted her by shoving her against the wall, with enough strength for her to be out of your way, but enough not to hurt her. Yet, she hit the wall with a loud thud. 

You did not look back either, not caring to look at her teary eyes. 

At 8 AM sharp, you stood in the training grounds, the Omnic not bothering to make small talk. Genji arrived a few minutes later, apologizing for his lateness.   
You started with classic exercises. Sit-ups and push-ups were a formality, you did not even break a sweat, while weeks ago you would have been clutching your abdomen, out of breath.   
Then, the training really started. Genji laid out a selection of weapons, from melee to ranged weapons. Swords, axes, daggers, shotguns, assault rifles, sniper rifles. You picked a sword, you figured that practicing close combat would help you relieve some of your rage.   
He taught you the basic, then the sparring started.   
The ninja was unbelievably fast, your eyes could barely keep track. The fact that your lenses felt like sand was not helping. You could not manage to land a hit.   
You were so focused on his movements that you did not notice Reaper and Widowmaker in the audience, observing quietly your every move. 

As you dodged yet another blow, you heard the former Blackwatch commander speak up.  
“Take off your damn contacts. It won’t get you nowhere.”   
You turned around. Amélie pretended to be studying her nails, while he was holding a book. Were he as good as pretending to be uninterested, he would have bothered to actually turn the book upside down.   
You did as you were asked. And his advice was quite useful. You were able to follow the Cyborg’s movements, you were even able to spot a pattern. You used this information to your advantage, dodging his lunge, sidestepping to catch him off guard, successfully landing a blow on his back. He stumbled, rolling to avoid your next hit.  
“Not bad!” You heard the smile in his voice, as he reached to hit your feet. You jumped effortlessly, but the tip of your sword touched the ground where the ninja once was. You turned around quickly enough to escape his next strike. Your blade collided with his in a glorious ‘thump’. Training swords. Of course. They were quite realistic, even the weight was decent enough for it to be mistaken for an actual weapon.   
Breaking his previously established pattern, Genji jumped over your head, you swiftly turned on your heels, ready to parry, when you saw his blade so close to you. You did not know what got into you, but your arm grabbed the sword with a death grip. The wood gave plaintive creak, before breaking.   
The ninja, surprised, looked at you, then the sword. You heard applaud from the audience. Doomfist was standing near his former Talon comrades.  
“Not bad, for a newcomer.” He grinned, before jumping, landing in front of you and the dumbfounded cyborg.   
“Want a /real/ challenge? Training like children will get us nowhere.” Confidently grinned Akande.   
You smirked back, feeling more than seeing the bandages starting to rip around your now pounding arm.   
Readying your legs, one hand wielding a sword, the other one wielding brutal force from your damaged arm, you lowered your head. Genji joined the audience, before beginning the countdown.   
“3!”   
He popped his back.  
“2!”   
You kept your breathing steady, deciding on where to strike first.  
“1!”   
He charged you, you avoided the collision by mere centimetres, thanks to a nicely timed side-roll. 

You heard more than saw his next hit, as he plunged forward with a strained groan. You ducked, grabbing his gauntleted arm, throwing him to the ground.   
The audience let out a surprised gasp.   
Akande looked at you with a strange mix of shock and challenge.   
Your arm was still pounding, you knew he would just not stop there.   
He readied his fist for a deadly charge, and so did you, trying to muster all of your fury in a single hit.   
Your vision started to swim, you could only see him, focus on his breathing. It felt as if you were seeing right through him. You knew where he would strike. Dodging was too simple. You wanted a challenge. You needed to feel alive.   
So you did what no one with any kind of survival instinct would do. 

Your fists collided in a brutal showdown of raw power, echoing loudly through the training grounds, and probably beyond, to your satisfaction. 

He recoiled, his fist against yours.  
He had a quite dark look on his face, before he lit up completely.   
“If that is what you can do with little to no training, I cannot wait to see how you will perform among our ranks!” He grinned, breaking contact, before offering his actual hand.   
“I’m already in Overwatch, you know.” You stated, not seeing his point.   
A cough interrupted you. Winston, followed by Jack and Angela, holding a clipboard.   
“Your powers are too great to be ignored.” Spoke Angela, she did not see exactly thrilled.   
“You have great potential, soldier. We can help make you the best of it.” Continued Soldier76.   
“Are you ready to become an agent?” Asked Winston, adjusting his glasses.   
You looked around. The whole troop had gathered, from the newcomers, to the old-timers.   
Hana and Lùcio were smiling and waving at you, mouthing yesses. Mei looked at you shyly, as you were under Zarya’s heavy scrutiny. Sombra was grinning shamelessly, seemingly extremely smug and proud of her role in this. Leaning on the railing, Moira was smoking a cigarette. As you locked eyes with her, you expected her to hold your gaze. But she looked away.   
Moira O’Deorain, the ever-so calm geneticist looked away. You felt quite proud. You shook Akande’s hand.   
“I am ready to undergo the training necessary to become an agent.” You nodded. Cheers erupted, from Reinhardt’s loud laughter, to Ana’s soft claps.   
Once the cheers died, Winston spoke up.  
“A wise choice. Take your time to choose your mentor, future agent. I cannot wait to work more with you in the future.”   
Gabriel joined the trio, arms crossed.  
“Come by my office as soon as you get the chance, Y/N.”   
“Do take some time to celebrate, though.” Winked Angela, before exiting the training grounds with Winston.   
“Congratulations are in order, I believe.” Nodded Zenyatta, you heard the smile in his voice.  
“I still have a long way to go before I am an agent.” You objected, shaking his hand, pleased that he made the effort to remember the human custom.   
“And we shall help you along the way.” Smiled Genji, his helmet under his arm.


	3. Of Expectations And Regrets

Training was hard. That seemed like a pretty obvious fact, however, given your newly acquired abilities and endurance, you did not think that you would experience such exhaustion.   
That is why you were laying in the middle of the training ground’s arena, covered in a thin sheet of sweat, lungs heaving painfully.  
“Get up!” Commanded Doomfist, extending a hand.   
You slowly raised your hand, aching all over.  
“Please, don’t tell me we are going for another round.” You moaned, as he helped you up.  
You got into position, and once again, he could not help but criticise your posture.  
“Back straight, legs strong!” To test the strength of your legs, he kicked them, causing you to fall to the ground once again.   
“Was that necessary?” You groaned, eying him with clear annoyance.   
You painfully got to your feet again, your back popping. You coughed a fistful of dust, wiping some of it on your face.   
“You must get better, natural talent will get you nowhere.”   
“Our first encounter was much more to my advantage, if I recall correctly.” You winced.   
“I had no idea a lab rat could pack such a punch! Quite an improvement, really.” He grinned, dusting off his shoulder.   
“I wish I could go back to being a lab rat.” Standing, dusty and exhausted in the Arena.   
Akande looked at the sun intently.   
“We have some time before you must attend to your other trainings, let us take some time to talk.”   
The both of you sat down in the middle of the arena, Doomfist fetched some cold drinks, as you stretched lazily, like a cat in the sun.   
You gladly grabbed the can, putting it against your aching temples.   
“You still do not feel at ease within your own body?” Asked Akande, sipping on his own drink eagerly.   
You shook your head, twiddling your thumbs.   
“Sometimes, you do not have a choice about what happens to you. It is life. But you can control what you do with it. As McCree once said, it doesn’t matter what cars you’re dealt in life, it’s how you play them.” You were surprised that Doomfist actually quoted the cowboy. 

“I’ve heard it a thousand times, but I still cannot get used to it.” You looked at your wretched arm. He put his hand on your shoulder, comfortingly.   
“Yet, you do not wear your silly bandages anymore.”   
His smile was subtle and comforting. Before all of this happened, you would never have thought that Akande could be anything else than a wall-smashing demon. Yet, he was caring and comprehensive. He changed your whole perspective on the former Talon crew.   
He left you to your thoughts, simply looking in the distance, sitting next to you.   
After a dozen of minutes, he gently said.  
“I believe you must meet with Widow in a few minutes.”   
You thanked him, and waved as he promised to keep you a seat for lunch.   
It felt good to be out in the sun, without your mask or your bandages, just enjoying the warm weather. You strolled to the shooting range, thinking that you could use some music.   
Amélie was already there, cleaning her rifle. She raised her head as you entered.  
“Salut, hope your training with Akande did not strain you too much.” Widow still had trouble expressing some emotions, yet she was trying, and recovering. She could sometimes be a tad awkward, but it made her so much more human.   
“Bonjour Amélie. It was quite tiring, but not enough for me not to be able to shoot a gun.” Your French accent was… decent. You kept learning from her, and sometimes Angela, who knew quite a bit of French, even though she was more comfortable with German.  
“Ah! When you’ll get acquainted with this bad boy, you will regret not chickening out.” She smirked, pointing to the shotgun laying on the table. You grabbed the gun, feeling its weight.   
“Should have quite a kickback, eh? Let’s give it a try.”   
She nodded, handing her earmuffs, while putting hers on. You got into position, as the bots appeared. She slightly corrected how your feet stood, before stepping aside.   
You sucked in a breath, gripping the gun tightly, before shooting.   
Nothing could have prepared you for its kickback. The gun flew from your grip, ending against the wall. You looked at your empty hands, then at the destroyed bot, with a quite confused expression.   
The sight must have been hilarious, for Amélie broke into a fit of laughter, it was shy and not as loud as Lena’s extremely loud laughter. You chuckled, grabbing the gun, trying to see who made it.   
No signs, no marks. Probably one of Torb’s creations, he did like to make you his guinea pig. He had that in common with Moira.   
You got ready to shoot again, but Widowmaker interrupted you.   
“I think you should put your other foot forward, and use your other hand to pull the trigger. Your human arm cannot handle the recoil, but the other one should handle the knockback just fine.” You nodded, and did just as you were instructed.   
You shot, and surprisingly, it felt much better, like your hand was supposed to belong there. After a few other shots, you found yourself being quite accurate. You even heard Widow hum appreciatively.   
“Torbjorn’s newest baby, I suppose.” Amélie nodded, as the two of you were changing back to your usual outfits.   
The sniper was sporting tight jeans, her blue shirt tucked in, her sleeves rolled up, revealing her tattoos. You eyed them with interest, they were as dark as they beautiful.   
“You like them?” She asked, as she closed her locker.   
“Yes, but I thought it was supposed to be ‘Araignée du soir, espoir’, not ‘cauchemar’”. Your accent slipped a bit on ‘araignée’, you were not exactly used to this word.   
“You are right. I thought about changing it, but I have not gotten around to it yet.”   
You nodded. It was time for lunch.  
“I could accompany you to the tattoo parlour, I must admit I’ve always wanted one myself.”  
“What do you want to get?” She asked curiously, as she texted someone.   
“I don’t really know, probably something about resilience.” You scratched your temple, thinking about what you could get, and where.   
“You do not have to actually get to a tattoo parlour. Sombra is quite the artist herself.” She mused.  
She must’ve been, Widowmaker rarely praised anyone. 

Just as promised, Akande saved you a seat. Around the table, Reaper was chatting with Jesse, who seemed barely awake, fixating the clock with a piercing gaze. Sombra just entered the room, waving at you and Amélie. You waved back, as you sat next to Genji, who discussing past skirmishes with Akande.   
Amélie mentioned that she would get the two of you an acceptable lunch, so you just let her take care of it, as you listened to Genji’s rant about the fact that the only reason why Doomfist was able to get the upper hand, was the fact that their team lacked a healer at the time.   
He laughed at that, as if the ninja told him a joke. Genji greeted you with a friendly pat on your back. Sombra sat down with a sigh.  
“Bad wake up call?” You asked, as you thanked Amélie, whom was back with the food.   
The hacker nodded, pointing an accusatory finger at the sniper.  
“She woke me up for lunch. You do know I’m old enough to take care of myself.”   
“Says the girl who spends her night on her computer, and who once missed a mission because she woke up at 6 PM instead of 6 AM.” Chuckled Amélie, grabbing a spoonful of gazpacho.   
“That was /once/! Am I ever going to live it down?” The Mexican rolled her eyes, as she took a bite of her sandwich.   
“Sombra, these are tapas, you’re not supposed to eat them like a sandwich.” Groaned Gabriel.  
“Mija, I know, but they taste better like this in my opinion. Who made these? I wasn’t aware we had a Spanish on base.”   
“I believe Angela made it. The recipes are an old friend’s.”   
“Oooh, why hasn’t he rejoined?” Asked Sombra, as she stole a sip from your gazpacho.   
“Fernando died a few years ago.” Said Gabriel, as he added some salt to his cold soup.   
“Sorry to hear th-”   
She was interrupted by Jesse, who got up on his chair.  
“IT’S HIIIIIIGH NOOOON!” He yelled, making old man Torb spit out his soup.   
“For fuck’s sake, Jesse!” Choked Gabriel, whom was drinking.   
The cowboy and the cyborg ninja high-fived, as you and Sombra dissolved in a fit of laughter.   
Angela looked at Jesse, shaking her head. She seemed quite used to it.   
The door to the mess hall opened, revealing Moira, whom seemed even more tired than usual.   
She walked up to Angela, she did not even spare a glance for anyone else in the whole room.   
She whispered something in her ear, to which she nodded, seemingly thinking about something complex, before whispering something else.   
Moira followed her gaze, landing on your table. You got back to your conversation with Sombra, which was really just making fun of the cowboy who was awful at using tech. You did not notice the geneticist looking at you, with a mixture of regret, but that did not escape Amélie eyes.   
She feigned interest in Gabriel’s conversation, while keeping an eye on the scientist.   
Without missing a beat, the sniper texted the group chat you shared with her and the hacker.   
Spidey: Moira’s watching Y/N.   
Sombra did not need to pull out her phone, she had already answered in a heartbeat.  
Sombae: Noiice. Let’s see what makes her tick.   
You had felt more than heard your phone buzzing against your thigh, but as you grabbed it to check your messages, Sombra jumped on your lap.   
“Good idea! It’s been so long since we took a picture together!” Smiled the hacker, opening your camera app, literally bombarding the two of you with pictures.   
She leaned and whispered into your ear.  
“Play along, Dr Edge is watching.” She kissed your blushing cheek. You looked above your phone to see a quite surprised Moira. Her pale complexion gave away her flushed cheeks, and you could easily see her hands balled into fists.  
Puzzled by her reaction, you decided to follow Sombra’s plan, wrapping an arm around the hacker’s waist, pulling her close, nuzzling in her neck. Your friend purred, flashing a bright smile and a devilish smirk at the scientist.   
Moira stormed out of the room, to your trio’s hilarity.   
“Man, I think she almost burst from all that rage!” Laughed Sombra, slapping her thigh.  
“That was rich!” You chuckled, wiping a tear from your eye.   
“I do wonder why she is so jealous and protective, though.” You added, resuming eating your tray.   
Amélie rolled her eyes.  
“She’s had feelings for you for quite a long time, don’t you know?”   
“Yeah, hard to miss Y/N, you guys literally kissed on the rooftops.” Shrugged Sombra.   
“But afterwards, she completely ignored me, treating me like complete garbage!” You spat, frustrated.  
“Moira’s really weird to read, you never know what’s going on inside her head. Mustn’t be pretty.” Mused the Mexican, wiping her hands on her torn jeans.   
You nodded, you wished that the Irish woman could be a tad more open.   
“Sorry for pryin’, but I think that Angie could give some insight.” Said Jesse, lowering his hat in front of his eyes.   
“Angela, of all people? They don’t really see eye to eye.” You scratched your chin, musing how Angela could possibly know what’s going inside Moira’s mind.   
“They did work together a long time ‘go. Plus, they were talkin’ ‘bout somethin’, seemed like good ole Vodka Aunt needed advice from our local angel.”   
For once, Jesse was right.   
“Go and talk to Moira. I will let Gabe know that you might not be in time for your strategy lesson.” Amélie offered. You accepted, glad to know that the sniper had your back.   
Angela was not hard to find, she was lounging in the common room, seemingly watching TV, even though it was obvious that her mind was set on something else. You sat on the ottoman in front of her, crossing your legs.   
“Hello Y/N, how are you feeling today?” She smiled, regaining her composure.   
“I am feeling fine, Angela, how about you? You seem preoccupied.”   
“I’m great, I am extremely glad to see you up and about in the daylight. You have made some incredible progress in the last few weeks.”   
You nodded grateful.  
“You played no small part in my recovery, doctor. But I believe you are dodging my question.” You grinned, as Angela smiled sheepishly.  
“Well, I must admit that Jack, Winston and I have had our hands full lately. But we will make a difference.” She stated confidently. It seemed that the doctor was holding back some information, but you refused to press on the matter, after all, calling the shots in the Recalled Overwatch was no easy task.   
“So, what brings you here? It does not seem like you simply wanted to check on your favourite medic.” She sipped from her mug, knowingly.   
“You are right, I do have some questions. Moira has been acting… weird, recently.” You looked away, gazing outside the window.   
Angela nodded.  
“Well, that is quite an oxymoron, Moira does tend to act oddly. I believe she is simply worried. I assume that the both of you were close.”   
You raised your eyebrows, Doctor Ziegler was quite perceiving.   
“Once again, you are right. We shared a moment on the roof, after I woke up from my… coma, I suppose. I thought that I meant something to her, that we had something special, but I’m not so sure anymore.”   
The battle medic put a comforting hand on your thigh.  
“Y/N, it’s okay. It is quite obvious that there is a mutual attraction between the two of you, however, what happened to you seemed to have shaken Moira. I won’t go as far to say that she feels guilty, but perhaps she regrets to have cause you such grief. Maybe you should address this issue directly with her.” Advised the ever so wise doctor.   
You put your hand upon Angela’s, as a gesture of thanks.   
“Thank you, Angie. That does sound wise. But you know what also sounds wise? Getting some sleep.” You chuckled, pointing at the angel’s tired eyes. She giggled in return, shaking her head.   
“I will, I promise, perhaps once Jack stops pestering me about expanding.”   
“Oooh, field trips coming soon?”   
“Sooner than you think, I am afraid. I promise I will keep you updated.”   
You stayed and watched television with Angela a little while longer, before heading to the labs.   
Mei just had gotten back from Antarctica, a lot of valuable equipment remained there, to the climatologist, it had been quite a bore to work without her previous equipment.   
She seemed to be on her way to lunch, however, lost in thought, she simply ran into you.  
“Oh my! I’m so sorry!” She exclaimed, readjusting her glasses, before going slack-jawed.  
“’Tis only fair, given the fair amount of times I have ran into you before. My apologies for last time, Mei-Ling. I was stupid.” You offered your hand.   
She looked at your wretched hand, taking it into her own, in total disbelief.  
“You’ve changed so much…” She hugged you tightly. You embraced her back, enjoying her warmth.   
“I am so happy to see you again, I thought I’d never get to see the real you again. Don’t worry about last time, I understand.”   
You stayed there for a moment, just hugging and catching up.  
The door to Moira’s lab opened, as the scientist checked her mail.   
She looked at you and Mei hugging tightly.  
“Quite the collection, Y/N.” She said drily, before getting back to her lab.   
“Well, someone’s more bitter than usual.” Noted Mei. “You should probably speak to her before she smashes something again.”   
“She did what?” You asked, dumbfounded.   
“She destroyed her computer, and I think she broke a few flasks, given the sounds I heard.”   
“When?”   
“About 20 minutes ago, I believe.” She checked her watch.  
“Yep, I think I need to talk to her.” You sighed. A moody Moira was never a good sign.   
“Call me if you need backup.” Said Mei confidently.   
You could’ve objected that poor, small, squishy and cute Mei couldn’t harm a fly, but you remembered the fate of the men who tried to get to her in her lab, when the base was under attack, and realised that she was quite a threat. 

“I will.” You stated solemnly, before heading to Moira’s lab.   
Your badge did not work. You stared at it, confused. You had been transferred to rigorous training, but you were not aware that this affected your access to the lab. Your name had been taken off the door and the mailbox. It seemed like it had been straight out ripped.   
Petty, Moira. Petty. 

You knocked on the door, once, twice, waiting for an answer.   
“I am working.” Came a muffled voice, on the other side.  
“You’re always working! Let me in, we need to have a chat.”   
“I am not interested in a mere chat.”   
“We need to talk, now.” You commanded, quite amazed at how confident you sounded. Good one, try an’ keep it up. You thought to yourself.   
The door opened, revealing an upset looking Moira. Her eyebrows were furrowed, and her lab coat bore various stains. A few were of blood. Behind her, you could see the remnants of her computer, and a few puddles of oddly coloured liquids.   
“What a mess.” You bluntly stated. O’Deorain was usually so orderly, and was pretty much a clean freak.   
That was so unlike her.   
She nodded.   
“You have come to talk. I am listening.” She took off her labcoat, resting on her metal table.   
“Why are you acting so strange? That evening, on the roof. I thought perhaps it meant something to you.” You looked so hurt and confused, Moira was caught off guard.   
“It means something to me.” She finally admitted, looking at the ground.   
“Then why don’t you talk to me?” You were exasperated.   
“You would not understand! You simply cannot.” She started pacing.   
“I hurt you, deeper than a bullet could pierce. I wish it had not been so. Do not get me wrong, I certainly not regret saving you. I just could not bear the thought of losing you to these savages.”   
She turned around, looking at you with a softness that almost did not belong on her face.   
“What I said back then, I meant it. I still do.”   
You took her hands, bringing her closer to you. She rested her forehead atop of yours.  
“What we had, what we started back then, we can still have it.” You said calmly, enjoying how her hands felt in yours. 

“I wish we could. I would want nothing more, dearest one.”   
You looked at her with so much hurt in your eyes, but in her own heterochromatic eyes, there was such pain, that you were left speechless.   
“Why?”   
“I cannot explain, not yet. Forgive me.” She closed her eyes, it looked as if she were hurting all over.  
“Moira, please…”   
She held you, tight. You could feel that there was so much more going on, but you simply could not understand why Moira rejected you.   
“One day, perhaps. I am truly sorry, mo grá.” On your forehead, she laid a most chaste kiss.   
“I cannot wait forever, Moira.”   
She flinched as if she had been shot.   
“I know, and I shan’t ask you to do so. I’ve seen you with Sombra, there is some chemistry between the two of you. I hope she will make you happy, where I have miserably failed.” She whispered.   
“There is nothing between Sombra and I, we are just friends.”   
“No need to lie, I’ve seen the way she looks at you. Perhaps she can keep you safe better than I.”   
Your phone rang. Speak of the devil, it was the hacker.   
You didn’t have the time to answer or decline the call, she was already on the line.  
“Y/N, meet me on the rooftops right now, it’s an emergency!” She seemed quite panicked, which was very unlike the usually confident Mexican.   
“I’ll be over in an instant.”   
“What’s going on?” Asked Moira, slightly concerned but much more annoyed at the hacker’s interruption.   
“I intend to find out. I really need to go, but can we pick up this conversation later?” You hesitated an instant, before smooching her cheek and running to your meeting spot.   
You did not even notice the scientist holding a surprised hand to her flushing cheek.   
“Amiga, I think we’ve got a problem.” Said Sombra, pacing nervously on the roof, chewing on her bottom lip.  
“Tell me something I don’t know.” You place a reassuring hand on her shoulder, trying to get her to stop pacing like a tiger in a cage.   
“Seems like you’re going to be deployed, the reports don’t state where.”   
“Angela did mention Jack wanting to expand our horizons. What’s wrong with that?”   
“Well, you are being deployed, but with none of us!” The hacker seemed quite shaken.   
“Sombra, that’s okay, I can handle my own without you or Widow around. We will keep in touch, plus, how long am I going to be away?” You sat on the edge, the hacker resuming her pacing.   
“Two weeks. From what the reports say, it’s going to be you, D.va, Lùcio and Tracer. Seems like you guys are leaving for the Mojave Desert, in America.”   
“Relax, that’s not that long, plus I can handle the heat.” You opened your arms, you knew that Sombra was pretty much a hugger, and constantly craved affection, since Amélie was rarely physically affectionate.   
She dived in the hug, settling between your open legs, trying to calm down.  
“I know I sound silly, I’m just worried you’d get in trouble.” She rested her chin on your shoulder.   
You thought about what Moira said. You did get along pretty well with Sombra, she always had your back, and she understood your chronic pain and somehow knew how to calm them.   
After all, she also took care of Gabe during his bad days.   
You pet her hair, feeling the weird texture of the cybernetics on her head.   
“My mother used to do this to calm me down, when I was a kid.” You remembered. It felt like another lifetime.   
“Sometimes, I can’t remember what a normal life is like.” You stated, sighing.   
The hacker tightened her grip.  
“Feels like watching movies with Amé and I. Reading awful books that the others liked. Pretending they were decent.”   
“Screw you, Som, Zola’s an amazing writer.”   
She laughed at that.   
“See? Not that hard. Weird is the new normal. You may quote me.” You swatted her on the shoulder.   
“I wonder what I’d do without you guys to keep me grounded.”   
The hacker seemed to be deep in thoughts.   
“What’s on your mind, ‘Sombae’?”   
“When we get back, I want to tell you something.” She sounded awfully serious.  
“You can tell me anything, I’m here for you.” You took her hands in yours, gazing into her absurdly violet eyes.   
“You know what? Fuck later, I’m going to tell you now.” She was quite conflicted, you could see it in her body language, she was restless.   
You nodded, listening intently.   
“My name. It’s, uh, I know it doesn’t sound like a big deal, but to me, it is. Amé, Gabe, Akande, they know it, I want you to know it.” She fidgeted with her fingers, breaking eye contact.  
“Hey, Sombra, it’s okay, take your time.” That seemed to do the trick, she took a sharp breath.   
“Olivia. Olivia Colomar. I was born in Mexico, but y’know, war hit us hard, let’s not even talk ‘bout the aftermath. I lost my family, thought I’d never have a family again ‘till… ‘till…” Som-Olivia, trailed off, likely lost in thoughts.   
“Until?” You encouraged her.   
“Until I found my place. At first, to me, Talon was just another tool. I somehow got attached to our merry band of misfits, but I only ever felt at home once we were able to run away from Talon.” Explained Olivia.   
“I still don’t understand how you guys made it out alive.”   
“Akande is a much better storyteller than I am, long story short: Amélie’s constant reconditioning almost broke her, when the Oasis Ministry found out about Moira’s ties with Talon and Widowmaker, who was pretty much public enemy number one after Mondatta’s assassination, our dearest scientist had to go into hiding.”   
“I see, but how did the rest of you get out?”   
“Moira was done breaking Amélie over and over again, she claimed that this was not furthering mankind’s evolution, it was mere enslavement. Talon didn’t take no for an answer. The council decided to execute Moira. Akande voice his opposition, and, to make it short, that’s why the skyscraper blew up. Gabe and Akande were able to make it out, and the only ones able to both provide for Amé’s health and our safety were the Overwatch agent.”   
“From what I’ve heard, you had some… quarrels before.”   
“To say the least, we were pretty much arch-enemies, to put it on a spectrum. We were not the only threat though, and both Angela and Tracer wanted to save Amélie and Gabriel. I guess Mercy still felt quite guilty. It didn’t happen instantly, at first, we just lent each other a helping hand from time to time.”   
You nodded, still amazed at how they were able to forgive, or at least, go past such differences.   
“Why has the former Talon team moved in, then?” You gestured to the Gibraltar complex.  
“Well, you’ve witnessed it first-hand. Loads of people don’t want Overwatch back, it was bound to attract some… unwanted attention. Namely, attacks from various groups, such as Lùmerico, Vishkar, who’s still sore about losing Satya…”   
“You’re still proud about the fact that you were the one to help her out, eh?” You grinned.  
“It was no small feat, but honestly, Lùcio was quite helpful as well. Didn’t know this guy had it in him.”   
“Precious small frog boy can be dangerous, y’know.” You both chuckled.  
“Anyways, now, I finally feel at home. That’s part why I don’t exactly like the idea of you leaving. Not that I don’t trust the other Overwatch peeps, I’m just afraid that if harm comes your way, we won’t be able to reach you.”   
“C’mon Olivia, what’s the worst that could happen to me? Dying?”   
“Too soon, Y/N, too soon.” You both laughed, until your phone rang again.  
It was Angela.   
You answered, Sombra paying close attention.   
“Hey Y/N, it’s Angela. Mind coming by my office, I have some news about your affectation.”   
“Sure thing Angie, I’ll be here in a second.”   
“You weren’t supposed to know until tomorrow morning, seems like you have friend in high places.” Whistled Sombra.   
“It was great talking to you, Olivia, I appreciate your trust, and I feel the same way. Come by my place tonight, we can watch silly movies and overdose on candy, bring Amé, it’s going to be fun.”   
“Woohoo!” Cheered Sombra, probably going over the world’s most awful movies you could binge watch. She smooched your cheeks, before dramatically throwing her translocator, vanishing with an elegant bow.  
“How extra.” You chuckled to yourself, before jumping down the roof, scaring the hell out of the poor hacker.   
“Y/N, first off, let me start by saying how proud I am of your recent progress. After some deliberations with Gabriel and Jack, we decided you are ready to go on your first mission.” Angela was beaming with pride. Her joy was contagious.   
“Thank you Angie, appreciate it. Tell me all about it.” You leaned in, listening intently.   
“You are going to the Mojave, California. Your mission will be to survey possible enemy activity, there is also a group living there, they may provide intel. They are an interesting bunch, I think Lena will be more than happy to fill you in during the flight. You will be paired with Hana, Lùcio and Lena.”   
“That’s a small team.” You noted.  
“It is, we think it would be better not to attract any unwanted attention from our enemies. It is unlikely that you will run in major trouble, but it was also unlikely that Gibraltar would be under attack. We are thinking about relocating our homebase. There are several suitable spots we would like you to evaluate.” Angela handed you a file full of pictures and criteria.   
“Should you need any advice or further information, your communicators have been enhanced, and a crypted channel will be available 24/7 to our HQ. Do not worry, you are in good hands.” Offered Mercy, supportive as ever.  
“Understood. When are we leaving?” You asked, getting up at the same time as Angela.  
“Tomorrow night, come see me in the morning for a check-up, and meet Lena in the docking bay by noon, I reckon she’ll have much to say about your assignment.”   
You shook hand, professionally, and as you were on your way to the exit, Angela called out.   
“I also recommend asking Fareeha for advice on how to stand desert temperatures, you are never too prepared!” 

After a night full of candies and awful movies, you were waiting for Lena in front of the Orca. She was running late, as usual. For somebody who could control time, she just could not be on time. You winced, rubbing your arm. Angela really liked to stick needles into people.   
“Sorry,” Apologised the pilot, her hair sticking in different directions.   
“Hit snooze one too many times?” You laughed, pointing at her… curious hairstyle, which resembled a punk guinea pig who’d do too much coke in one stand.   
“You guessed it, luv. Hope I didn’t keep ya waiting for too long though. I was thinking about taking the old girl out for a warm-up trip, care to come along?”   
“Sure, let’s go!”   
The ride was smooth, and the company was great.   
“So, there’s this group, they call themselves the ‘Slabbers’, they organised themselves in a city, called, you guessed it, Slab City. Independent thinkers, outcasts, call them what you will. They’re the ones who called the authorities about some unregistered military-like trucks in the area.”  
“I suppose the police hasn’t done anything about it.”  
“You must be a mind reader, Y/N. Whoever is in control, they must be powerful. The design of the trucks seems to be one of the Outlaws.”   
“Isn’t that a biker gang? Jesse told me about them.”   
“Damn, you know your stuff.” Lena switched to auto pilot and turned her seat around, so the two of you could chat better.   
“But if they’re just a gang, how can they control the local authorities? It should be beyond them.” You laid back in your seat, crossing your ankles.   
“Los Muertos, the Outlaws, the Syndicate… The time of independent gangs are over. They’re too useful to the politicians and the corporations.” Explained the pilot.  
“How so?”   
“Politicians can use fear to get elected, and corporations can tip them off to destroy their rival, or to make their products useful. Mexico, thanks to Los Muertos, several cities were cut off of electricity, and who came in to save the day?”   
“Lùmerico.”  
“Yep. Made them look good, and they made tons of money. This type of ‘system’ used to be particularly present in the BRICS, now they’re common.”   
“The BRICS?”  
“Brazil, Russia, India, China, South Africa. Emerging countries, they called ‘em. Now, they’re literally forces to be reckoned with.”   
“So, our enemy is most likely to be the Outlaws. Perhaps we should ask Jesse to tag along?”   
“While Jesse does have some intel, it’s better to keep him out of gang business, we don’t want Deadlock to try and get him back. Still haven’t forgiven him for choosing Blackwatch over prison.”   
The ride back to the watchpoint was filled with chatter and music, as you debated what to put on the playlist with Lùcio, over the intercom.   
As you landed, a Swedish man was waiting, his hands planted firmly on his hips.   
“Hello, Torbjorn.”   
“It’s Torbjörn.” Corrected the dwarf, puffing.   
“May we help you, grumpy old man?”   
“Actually, there is something I’d like to show Y/N before you go. Follow me.” Without further ado, he turned heels and headed for the workshop.   
It was quite an impressive place, the forge was blazing, pieces of armour littered the Swede’s part of the workshop, while Satya and Fareeha’s were perfectly clean. The Architect seemed to be in the middle of trying to figure out a blueprint, but graced with a wave, while the Egyptian was busy welding something on her Raptora suit. 

A mannequin was covered with a large piece of cloth, which Torbjorn ceremoniously tossed away, revealing your armour.  
“So, what’d you think?”   
You went slack-jawed. This could not be. 

It was a fine piece of craftsmanship. The chest was protected with a sturdy-looking piece of armour, which resembled Jack Morrison’s, during the golden age of Overwatch, but with more sober colours. The pants seemed to be made out of leather, but as you touched them, it felt smooth as silk. You pulled on the texture, eliciting a proud huff from the dwarf.   
“It is pretty indestructible. The chest piece was made by Fareeha, modelled after Jack’s. The trousers are Satya’s doing, hardlight. It won’t be scorching hot during the day, and will keep you warm at night.”   
The coat topping the armour was stylish indeed. A long, sleeveless leather coat.  
“We figured you didn’t want cloth to get in the way of your special arm. It should keep you safe. Genji told us you liked to double wield swords. There are holsters in the back. The swords used to be his, we decided to upgrade them a bit.” He pulled the coat over the mannequin’s head, gesturing you to follow him.   
“There’s another holster in the back. For your shotgun, the one you tested yesterday with Blue.”   
He grabbed the shotgun lying on the workbench. Like the rest of the outfit, it was red and black. It seemed a lot shorter.   
“In order to make it more discreet and easier to carry, we decided to install two modes. This is the rest mode…” He pressed a button on the side of the gun, parts activated, and the shotgun was back to its former size.  
“And this is the offensive mode.” He seemed quite proud of his work, as he handed you the gun.   
You were simply speechless.   
“What are you waiting for ? Try it on.” Encouraged Fareeha, who put down her tools, looking at you with a smug smile. Satya seemed quite interested as well, her hand resting on her hip. 

Fully geared up, you marched to the hangar bay, greeted by your teammates’ whistles.   
“Looking good, Y/N!” Cheered Hana, dressed in her pilot suit.   
“Torb has outdone himself once more.” Nodded Lùcio, examining your outfit.   
Lena blinked around you excitedly.  
“Woah, you look so cool, luv! Anyways, now that the dream team is assembled, let’s go!” Said Lena cheerfully.   
As you the aircraft left the base, you noticed a small group standing on the rooftops.   
Widowmaker, Sombra, Reaper, Doomfist, Mei, Genji, Zenyatta and Mercy waved goodbye, but all you could focus on was someone standing on the balcony. 

Moira. She offered a small wave of her hand. You waved back, wondering if she could actually see you. 

You sat down, eager to complete your first mission.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I will probably do some more editing later on, but right now, I think I might collapse from exhaustion. Don't hesitate to leave a comment, thank you for reading !<3   
> -Cycian


	4. Of expectations and hopes

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Your first mission doesn't exactly go according to plan, but your newfound strength and determination helps you survive, until you make it into Slab City, where familiar faces meet again. Will you be able to untangle the mysteries around The Forge ? Are you going to leave this fight as an overwatch agent or in a body bag?

Everything that could have gone wrong with the beginning of your first mission did. The flight across the ocean was peaceful, but as soon as the aircraft entered the surrounding vicinity of the desert, the instruments started going crazy.   
You remember Lena screaming for Athena to respond, as she frantically tried to stabilise the plane, Hana and Lùcio shoving you into a seat, helping you buckle up. The aircraft shook terribly, bottles crashed, and soon enough, so did the plane.   
You woke up with a startle in the sand, still dressed in your normal clothes, the crew having decided on laying low while they gathered information. Coughing up some sand mixed with dried blood, you tried to sit up. But to no avail, as you discovered to your utmost shock a piece of metal buried within your torso.   
Whining slightly, you grabbed it firmly, slowly pulling it out, trying to ignore the atrocious pain. You prayed that your regenerating powers were enough to keep you stable. Using the remains of your shirt, you tied a makeshift bandage around your torso.   
You tried to calm down. You didn’t remember much of the accident, but you had to remain calm. You sucked in a few hallowed breaths, trying not to disturb your injury. You looked at what was surrounding you. And there wasn’t much. A piece of what once should’ve been one of the emergency exit pods, and a few ripped open crates. You crawled over to the latter.   
“What do we have here?” You said to yourself, realising how feeble and coarse your voice sounded. There was an old metal gourd, accompanied by a simple survival kit. A sewing kit, a flare, some water purifying tabs and a knife.   
You tore what was left of your shirt, making a small satchel to carry your belongings. You looked in another beaten down crate, finding some emergency EMR.   
That wasn’t much, but it had to do. Looking up to the sun, you determined that it wasn’t high noon yet. You had some troubles remembering when the plane went down, but given the fact that night had settled, your guess would be approximately 11 PM. Which meant that you had been out for several hours.   
“Should find some high ground.” You muttered to yourself, climbing on the hill the escape pod was leaning on.   
All around you, naught but sand, rocks, cacti and dried up branches. Didn’t look promising. You decided to set your priorities: finding some water, dehydration was deadlier than hunger, getting some help for your wounds, and most importantly, finding somewhere to try and get some info on your companions’ whereabouts.   
You decided to follow the sun’s direction, if it rose to the East, meant it had to go down to the West, right? You gathered your meagre belongings, and got started.   
The sun was scorching, and you had a slight limp, whilst the wound on your torso felt like it was boiling. Your head was getting dizzy, but you decided to cover as much ground as possible.   
You wondered if perhaps, by luck, you’d spot some road, but there was nothing around. You cursed, this was not exactly the best start.   
You quickly depleted your physical resources, but decided against eating the EMR, you knew that the human body could go for days without food. But the utmost urgency was finding water. The gourd was empty, and your tongue started to feel terribly thick in your mouth. You massaged your salivary glands, trying desperately to wash away the taste of sand.   
All this sand, rock, dust and cacti almost made you wish for a nuclear winter in the Mojave. Wait a second. Cacti?   
If you could’ve rushed to the nearest cactus, you would’ve, but alas, even walking was barely manageable, so you settled for a fast walk. You used your knife to stab the plant, holding the gourd under the knife, as some liquid lazily rolled alongside the blade.   
“Thank God I binge-watched Bear Grill’s stupid show.” Chuckling to yourself, you drank a bit. It tasted odd, but you couldn’t bring yourself to care.   
By the time high noon finally arrived, you thought you’d boil alive.  
“Should take a nap, and wait for the heat to calm the fuck down.” You looked around, no side of shade anywhere.   
You kept going for a good kilometre and a half, until you finally found a rock big enough to provide some cover.   
The ground was so hot you could feel it through your shoes, as if the soles were sizzling under the blasted heat. The shade was a tad cooler, enough for you to lay down. You checked on your wound. You were by no means a medical expert, but you knew enough to know that this was not a good sign, all around the wound were sickly yellowish marks, and there seemed to be some pus seething from the injury.   
“Just what I needed…”   
You put your arms under your neck, closing your eyes. You were in pain, but exhaustion was stronger. You slipped in and out of consciousness, yet you were able to get some rest.   
When you came to, the sun seemed to indicate that it was between 4 PM to 6PM. The heat was a tad more bearable. It was time to move.   
You got back on the trail, not feeling confident, but the panicked that had seized your mind and body earlier was long gone. You figured you could handle this.   
You were able to go on for several more hours, until the sun started to set. Hunger was starting to cloud your mind, but you knew that you had to overcome the frivolous need, it was not yet an emergency to eat.   
When the stars came out, the chill started to settle in. Desert was hell. Scorching hot during the day, freezing cold in the night.   
However, it couldn’t alter your determination, you came too far to back down now. When your legs could not carry you anymore, you collapsed under a small boulder. You bared your blade, letting it rest on the stone.   
It took much longer to fall asleep that time though. Your thoughts drifted to your companions, how were they faring? Were they still alive? Was HQ aware of the crash? Would they send reinforcements?   
Would you eventually find your way out?   
Feeling the slight prick of tears on the corner of your eyes, you gulped loudly, swallowing was tough. You took a tentative sip out of the gourd, but what remained there was naught more than gunk from the previous cactus juice.   
Sleep eventually took you when you least expected it. It was far from blissful rest, you tossed and turned, and as time went on, you seemed to be losing more and more energy.   
Giving up and just lying there had started to become tempting. But you just could not abandon. You had come this far, had you not? Plus, you could simply not leave your companions to their fate.   
You started to dream. You were back in the aircraft, chatting mindlessly with Lùcio about the music, you blinked, and suddenly the Orca went dark, safe for the constant blinking of the various nodes on the aircraft’s piloting board.   
“Lena? Hana? Lù?” You called out, receiving naught but silence. You got up from the escape pod you were sat in, even though you could not remember getting there. You looked out the window, it was dark out, almost impossible to see beyond the thick window.   
Your voice was almost nothing but a sheer whisper covered by the intense vrooming in your ears, rendering your thoughts incoherent.  
You struggled to reach the dashboard, as you desperately tried to avoid crashing the aircraft. You erratically pressed a few buttons here and there. A bright light illuminated your fingers, you turned around swiftly, trying to find out where that was coming from.   
Suddenly, you were falling, you felt the rush of the wind against your skin, as your breath was straight up knocked out of your lungs.   
Trying to hold on to whatever was available, you still found your arms and legs flailing, as you woke up, drenched in sweat.   
“Fuck, what in the hell was that?” You panted, your heart still hammering against your ribcage.   
You cracked your knuckles. Getting up painfully, as the sun started to rise, like a threat.   
In this land of cacti, rock and sand, you almost wished you could’ve crashed on an island. Stranded on an island seemed slightly less tough then being in a desert.   
You chewed on your EMR, your jaw ached for not having eaten in a while. You had started to lose track of days, when you first saw it.   
It was barely visible, yet, after seeing naught but rocks and sand for days, it stood out remarkably.   
It looked like a church, you rushed to it, mouth agape like an animal, your eyes prickling because of the wind and sand.   
It finally came into view, it was a small town, but to you, it was like an oasis, and given the current context, the analogy couldn’t have been any more accurate.   
Falling to your knees, you didn’t hear people rushing to your aid, you simply felt yourself hit the ground, as everything went dark, once again.

Your dream was similar to the previous one, yet, instead of the light appearing behind you, it appeared in front of you. A simplistic sign, a trademark which you recognise instantly.   
When the light came behind your back, you already knew who it was.   
A sugar skull.   
A familiar silhouette, bathed in purple light.   
“Sombra.” 

“Well, hello too.” Greeted a foreign voice, belonging to a woman.   
“Sorry. Can I-” You didn’t even have to finish your sentence, a glass of water was brought to your lips.   
Drinking some actual water relieved your throat in ways you didn’t even know were possible, it was bliss.   
You uttered a quick a ‘thanks’, as you took in your surroundings. It seemed you were in the church, laying on a mattress on the ground, a few bandages bared your torso. You wiggled your toes tentatively, you felt much better.  
It seemed that you weren’t the only ones stuck in a peculiar predicament. Many people were on the mattresses, some looking pretty rough. The church was quite dusty, enough to make you cough. The pain in your ribs made you wince, you clutched your wounded side hurriedly.   
“Tough landing, eh?” You turned to your saviour. A pair of washed jeans, legs crossed on a foldable chair, an old tee-shirt, blonde hair tied in a messy bun, a cigarette tucked on top of her ear.   
“You could say that,” You groaned, slowly getting up, resting your hands on your bruised knees.   
“How long have I been out?” You asked, cracking your knuckles, enjoying the way they popped.   
“Three days, doc said the exhaustion and the malnutrition should’ve kept you down for a week at least. Given how you look, I wouldn’t have bet a peanut on your ass. No offense.” She got up, extending her hand.   
“None taken.” You grabbed her hand, she pulled you up with ease.   
“You mentioned a tough landing earlier. D’you know how I got here?” You noticed something you hadn’t noticed earlier: a revolver hanging on her hip.   
“We saw an aircraft coming down about a week ago. The Mojave is unforgiving, you’re lucky you made it out.” She started making her way out of the church; you followed her.   
“Have you seen anybody else?” You felt your guts wrenching. This was your first mission, and everything that could have gone wrong, went spectacularly wrong.   
“Not that I know of. Though there was some ruckus in Slab City, a newcomer, seemingly a foreigner, just like yourself. Might want to give it a look, after you pay off your debt.” She seemed almost apologetic at the last part.   
“Shit,” You looked at your feet. You felt powerless, your friends were in danger, yet, you were stuck in a shithole of a town in the Mojave Desert, stranded, most likely left for dead, and now you had a debt to a bunch of hillbillies. Well, desert hillbillies.   
“Well, I guess I ought to pay you back, right… What must I do?” You looked around, a few compounds which served as housing, though far from decent, and, given the neon sign in the distance, there was a bar.   
How surprising.   
You tried to tone down your frustration, they helped you, and perhaps you’d be able to gain some information about the rest of your friends’ whereabouts.   
“Let’s get to the bar, we got a lot to talk about, don’t we?”   
The walk to the bar was mainly spent in silence, as you contemplated how in Heaven’s name did you get into this mess.   
You pushed the door, this place was a walking cliché, you were half expecting a tumbleweed to roll in and choke you to death any second.   
“Hey sweetheart, lookin’ good.” Drawled a man, half standing, half slouched on the bar, a cigarette hanging loosely from his chapped lips.   
Your new friend made her way around the bar, unimpressed by the drunkard’s incivility.   
You went to sit on the stool, when the man landed a sharp slap on your ass.   
In a second, you whipped around, grabbing his wrist, throwing him on a nearby table.   
A whistle came from behind you, the blonde seemed to be thoroughly surprised.   
“Like the attitude, I was going to ask you to hit a few moles or snakes on the head with a shovel, but seems you’re cut out for more… subtle work.” She grinned appreciatively.   
“Subtlety? After I sent a dude flying on one of your tables? Where did you even learn about diplomacy and subtlety?” She scoffed at the, slapping you on the shoulder, not giving a damn about the fact that you visibly winced.   
“Well, welcome to Hill’s Fall, and to the wild, wild west.” She winked suggestively.   
A few drinks later, you were well acquainted with your new friend. Her name was Mary Henderson, she had been tending to this bar ever since her brother passed away. She told you quite a bit about your surroundings. Few towns, a bunker down north, occupied by the Outcasts, former Slab City citizens. There was an outpost belonging to the Outlaws somewhere in the desert, Mary told you about how many of her friends, on supply runs, winded up dead or missing.   
She also finally informed you of your mission. It was far from simple. You had to infiltrate the outpost, and free the citizens they had taken.   
Mary was rambling about the mission, and the people they had taken, and did not notice that you had fallen asleep, face first on the counter. Given how inconsistent her speech had been, she must have followed suit.   
You slept soundly, you might have been snoring, but given the sound you woke up to, Mary was a fair competitor, sounded like a lawnmower on the pavement.   
Drinking some alcohol might have soothed some of your worries, when the effect washed away you were not only feeling terrible, but also had all of your previous anxieties back tenfold.   
You groggily got up from the chair on which you had passed out. Your head was throbbing painfully, as you took in your surroundings. The bar had probably seen better days, it was in quite a decrepit state, the floor was creaking audibly under your bare feet. You noticed Mary sprawled across the counter, drool dripping from her chin.   
Mary woke up with a startle, sending a few glasses to shatter on the floor.   
“M’therfucker…” She groaned, rubbing at her temple vigorously. She got up from the counter, sliding without an ounce of grace onto the floor, carefully avoiding the broken glass.   
She cursed under her breath, slowly getting back up, before picking up the shards. You assisted her as you could, your own head throbbing painfully.   
Mary fished a remedy for hangovers from behind the counter, and you were glad to see your headache gone. The woman provided you with some fresher clothes, yours were stained with blood, and the rest… Well, let’s say that a night of drinking seldom left vestments immaculate. But from the stench of it, you could easily guess a mix of alcohol, and some vomit.   
The clothes were simple: a jerkin, ample but should help with the heat, trousers which required you to use to belt to refrain them from falling upon your ankles, and a blood-stained holster with a revolver.   
You wished McCree would’ve come along, for this could’ve been heaven for the cowboy wannabe.   
Mary offered a simple meal, resources were precious, and, while the two of you chewed on the dried meat and the hard bread, she filled you on what you were supposed to do. 

“A cart of our people went missin’, when they were scouting the region. That ain’t the first time it happened, mind you, bastards took my Pa’ months ago.” She blurted out, as she ate with her mouth open, but none of you minded this indelicacy. 

“We gonna head there, find out what happened. Dunno why they used a cart out of all things. I know the way, d’you know how to ride a horse?” 

You knew the basics, but felt the need to refresh your muscle memory before heading out.

After an hour spent in the coral trying to figure it out, you were finally ready to follow Mary. 

The blonde was much chattier after a meal, and talked your ear off about the region, and the bastards who were making life hard for everyone. She even spent about thirty minutes blabbering about your horse, Sooty, and her upbringing. You skilfully managed to tune her out, while keeping an ear out of the important parts. 

But, chatty as she was, she still knew her way around the desert.

From afar, you could see a trail of smoke, up in the air. Mary didn’t warn you, as her horse broke into a gallop. You followed suite, squinting heavily as the sun reflected on the sand made it hard to see. 

You arrived at the destination, dismounting promptly. A broken wheel was keeping a fire going, for one body seemed to have been impaled upon it, and produced a wretched stench.

Mary was gagging, but you kept your cool, and tried to breathe in through your nose. 

Another body, curled up on itself, against a rock, seemed to have suffer an equally violent death. You kneeled next to it, for the burned body surely no longer contained any exploitable information, and examined it. 

You were no expert at forensics, but Angela had taught you a thing or two, though it displeased her immensely. 

The hands were torn and bruised, it seemed that the victim tried to protect their faces. You adjusted the body’s position, though the stiffness of it indicated that the death had not been recent. Once the arms were out of the way, a face with feminine feature appeared. Her hair had been pulled off in handfuls, a few lesions were observable on the sides of her head. You opened her mouth, while ignoring Mary’s orders of letting the body alone. 

The tongue was swollen and of a greenish tint, which confirmed that the victim had been dead for well over 24 hours. 

There were signs of resistances, her nails were mostly torn off, with dried blood on the fingertips, a few of them had been broken, somebody had probably stepped on it. You got up, and spoke to Mary.

“Something’s wrong.” You stated, looking on the ground for footprints, though you suspected that the wind shifted the sand enough to cover most of their tracks. 

“Yeah, fucking around with corpses is wrong!” Mary seemed shock of your actions.

“Not what I meant. The body has been dead for over a day, at least, but the fire is recent, it wouldn’t have lasted through the night, let alone two. Which means that either another convoy or someone else was passing through here, and got attacked, or that whoever did this came back, and left this. As a warning, perhaps. Or a threat.” You reported, thinking that Gabe would congratulate you on your analysis. 

“The bastards. First, they kill our people, then they flaunt their atrocities? What kind of sick fuck does this?” She kicked a rock out of the way, which landed on the body you had examined earlier. 

“Fuck, fuck, I’m sorry…I…” While Mary apologised profusely to the corpse, you kneeled next to it, before grabbing the victim’s head and letting it fall back, giving you a better look at her mouth. You reluctantly grabbed the swollen tongue, before putting it back, revealing a piece of paper, hidden under her sand-covered tongue. 

“Interesting.” You felt like vomiting, but you knew better than to let go of such precious information. You carefully unfolded the paper, and tried to decipher it. 

“Oil, gas, fire the way.” It had been hastily written. Mary stared at you inquisitively. 

“I wonder what’s your job, you seem used to it.” 

“I’ve had good teachers, but that’s my first time on the ground, I suppose,” You sighed. “Any idea?” You asked, flaunting the paper.

“I’m guessin’ that the convoy was bearing oil and gas, I know the good pastor was trying to trade these for water and food. Given where we are, it was probably headed towards Slab City.” 

You nodded. It was a good opportunity to find out if the foreigner whom landed in Slab City was one of your friends. 

“We might want to check that out, then.” 

“I don’t think the Slabbers would attack us, though, they suffer just the same way we do, they lost a shitton of good people as well.” 

“Still, perhaps they know something about it, if it was headed their way.”

“You just want to see if one of your friends is there, don’t you? Planning on bailing out, so soon.” She eyed you suspiciously.

“I wouldn’t dream of it, but we’ve got to follow the trail, and this is the only lead we’ve got.”

“Yeah, sure. I’m keepin’ you in my sight, though. You still owe us.” She kicked another rock, which threw over the pyre, landing in a mess of fire and sparks. 

“Mary what the ever loving fu-” You were interrupted by parts of the sandy dirt road catching fire, a trail set ablaze. 

You looked at Mary, then back at the fire, and before you knew it, you were following the spreading fire. 

“You know what, Mary? Feel free to throw rocks!” You smirked, as she barked out a laugh.

The trail stopped near a cluster of rocks. You hopped off your horse, investigating the hole between the stones. 

A few balls of paper had seemingly been thrown there. You handed half of them to your companion, before smoothing one out for yourself to read. 

The handwriting was different than the woman’s, and seemed to detail his capture by slavers, then, later on, his escape with his companions.

“We tried to signal to a convoy, passing near the road to my town, but they attacked us. Ornella and Simon held them back while we ran away with the cart. I ain’t proud of what we did, but they attacked first. When we came back to find out what happened of our friends, Orn’ was dead, and I’ve no idea what happened to Simon. Tell my mom her little Thomas will send ‘em fuckers straight to hell.” 

So it seemed that the slavers didn’t, in fact, attack the convoy, but that they attacked runaway slaves looking for help. Perhaps their garments made the escort doubt whether they were friend or foe. A tragedy, really. You thought, as you rode the other letter, thought it was barren of interesting information, simply a goodbye letter.

“I’ve got something!” Exclaimed Mary, waving her letter. 

You nodded, awaiting her report eagerly. 

“Looks like they were going to take that convoy straight to the place they call The Forge, to blow it all up. Seems like it leaked though, hence the trail of fire. The dirt road ends here, there’s no way we can keep up with that trail.” Devised Mary, grabbing handfuls of sand to watch it trickle. 

“We might want to ask around in Slab City, then.” Asking the townsfolk about The Forge was a decent lead, after all. 

Mary hummed in agreement, dishing out her water canteen, offering some to you after having drank a few hearty gulps of water. You accepted gratefully, before following your guide to Slab City. 

When you arrived, the sun had started to go down, offering a splendid view of the city. It was mostly made of junk, recycled bottles, cardboard, some of them had disparate brick walls, and the houses, though qualifying these as houses would be quite a compliment, were made of composite materials. Still, it was much bigger than the town you had woke up in, had a few trailers. 

Fairy lights were hung across streets for better visibility, as the night chill was beginning to creep in, and bonfires were starting to be lit by equally original inhabitants. 

“It’s a dump o’ junk, but it’s as safe as it gets, nowadays.” Commented Mary, as you slowly made your way down the sandy hill. It was refreshing to ride across something else than sand and rock. You pat the side of your horse’s neck, hoping to get Sooty something to drink, for it had been a long day, and your water gourd could only help so much. 

“If you want information, the Saloon’s the place to go!” Merrily cheered the blonde, as she forced her horse into a trot through the streets, nodding to some Slabers, which were looking at the two of you with as much curiosity as distrust and worry. 

A man stopped her in her tracks, seemingly knowing her. Your companion turned to you, suddenly serious.  
“Head over to the bar, I’ll take care of your horse. Feel free to ask for your friend, but don’t you try and skip town, I’ll know it, got it?” She pointed to the Saloon, which was lit in an obnoxious way, the entanglement of fairy lights forming a penis. 

You nodded, handing over the reins, before heading to the Saloon, thinking that Jesse would’ve fallen head over heels for this place. 

As you soon as you entered the saloon, you were hit by the stench of strong moonshine meddled with sweat. You closed your eyes for a second, and when you reopened them, you saw a good portion of the saloon glaring at you. 

“Are you another one o’ them Forged fucks?” Asked the bartender, who had reached behind the counter, grabbing his shotgun. 

You put your hand on your revolver, looking around. There was no way you could make it out if they decided to attack you. You decided to play it cool, trying to mimic what Sombra had taught you to de-escalate a situation. Instead of seeming tough, you let your hand slide to your buckle, letting it rest there comfortably, as you tried to keep your breathing slow and steady. 

“I’m not one of them. I’m here to end them.” You tried to drawl out casually, walking slowly to the bar, as they broke into boisterous fits of laughter. You knew better than to be offended, but they needed to respect you, and to understand that you weren’t messing around. Faking a small laugh, you reached for a bottle of moonshine on the counter, and poured yourself a shot, gulping it down with assurance, and if you looked calm on the outside, it was pretty tough to keep the tears out of your eyes, the alcohol stung your throat unpleasantly. 

You slammed the glass on the counter, earning everyone’s attention once more. 

Well aware that all eyes were on you, you poured yourself another shot, before raising your glass for everyone to see.   
“This one is to Thomas, Ornella, Simon, Adrian and Sam!” You declared, downing it with much more ease than the first one.

“How do you know these names?” Asked the bartender, his hand upon yours, firmly trapping it against the glass. 

With your other hand, you got out three letters from your shirt.

“I found them while I was tracking down a convoy headed your way. I need to know all you know about the Forge, so I can take care of it.” He withdrew his hand, as he yanked the letters out of your hand. 

“My sweet Ornella,” Crooned the man, clutching the letters. “Was my niece’s death peaceful?” His eyes were suddenly full of sorrow, but you knew that sparing this poor man the painful truth would only bring more trouble.

“Heroic. She stayed behind to hold off the attackers. Seems like she teamed up with some folks from Hill’s Fall.” You lied, knowing fully well that revealing that if they heard that their neighbours shot first, it could start a war, even if it was an accident. 

The man nodded solemnly, before pouring himself a shot, into the glass you had previously used.

“Bottoms up, everyone!” He ordered. Everyone in the saloon had raised their glass, their eyes closed, as they downed their glass, before resuming their activities. You guessed that such announcements were common enough, for they did not seem shocked.   
“What’d you wanna know?” Asked the bartender, washing his glass with a rag which seemed dirtier than the glass itself; 

“Firstly, I must ask if you have seen any outsiders recently.” He furrowed his brows, so you added some more details.

“A small brit, dressed oddly, a young Asian girl, and a Brazilian man, with dreadlocks.” He seemed to perk up at the mention of the DJ.

“Oh, you mean Lùcio, he’s here, alright, he plays music for us. I must’ve known you were one of his friends, though you don’t exactly fit the description.”   
You failed to control the smile which lit up your whole face, earning a chuckle from the bartender. 

Just as you were about to ask for him, you heard a few loud strums on a guitar, before your friend came sliding down the ramp leading to the first floor. 

The bar came alive, greeting the musician with praise for his latest songs, and a few demands.   
His hair was falling over his shoulder in a most glorious mane, his bright eyes complementing the simple suit he wore, brown jacket with slacks, a mostly unbuttoned white shirt, and a cowboy hat.

You couldn’t help but giggle, he seemed to have gotten into the town’s spirit, and seeing him well brought you endless joy. He welcomed your hug with fierceness, kissing the top of your head.

“Man, it’s good to see a familiar face!” Lùcio was beaming, holstering his guitar on his back. “C’mon, we got a lot of catching up to do!” He added, already racing up the stairs. 

His room was messy, a cardboard with different handwritten notes showing that he had been working hard at finding the others. A map was spread on his bed, which seemed to have been the fruit of rigorous manual work. 

He pulled two stools from under his bed, and the two of you sat in front of each other, reporting your findings.

“The Forge, huh? According to the old man who lives near the museum, it’s a place where they enslave people, the Forged are brainwashed slaves, and the Forgers their masters.” Said Lùcio, pointing to one of his notes. 

“How does he know that?” 

“He made it out, but his mind was broken, he soils himself, has nightmares and flashbacks… Took me some time to get things right.” He seemed pained.   
“No news about the others?” You asked, though a part of you knew that if he had any kind of information about the Hana and Lena’s whereabouts, he’d have told you right away.

“No news. I hope they didn’t get caught, or hurt in the crash. There’s no internet here, no signal… These people don’t even know who I am!” 

You raised your eyebrows, Lùcio was a popstar, pretty much everybody knew about the rebellious Brazilian DJ. 

“Any lead about the Forge? We need to shut that place down.” You thought back on all the people who were suffering at their hands. It had to stop. 

“Can’t agree more, but the only person who’s got any idea on how to stop it would be Old Man Jenkins, and he ain’t right in his mind.” He got up and paced nervously, while you laid back in your chair. 

“The way I see it, we’ve got two options: we try to get out of the Desert, and find a way to contact Overwatch, and ask for reinforcements, but that would mean putting Hana and Lena’s lives on the lines. Or, we try and shake some information out of Jenkins, head to the Forge with the Slabers, and take it forcefully. It’s been too long since our last report, Overwatch is certainly already looking for us, which means that they might lend us a hand during the preparations.” You grabbed Lùcio’s map, and studied the region. 

Your friend stopped his pacing, resting a shoulder against the wall, considering your approach. 

“But what if we don’t know the location? We don’t even know how many people are in the Forge, we need to have numbers, and given how many people have gone missing the last few years, even uniting the region wouldn’t be enough.” He was scratching his slowly growing beard, which appeared more like a shadow. 

“We don’t need to barge in through the main doors, we can do it stealthily, get in, free the slaves, find an escape route, and blow up the Forge. Numbers matters when we are talking about a face-to-face. If we use ruse and intelligence, we won’t need too many men, a few squads should suffice.” You thought back on your lessons with Gabriel, Blackwatch had many strategies to infiltrate and destroy an enemy base, though the situation was unprecedented. There were too many variables. The Forged, were they loyal to their masters? Would it mean more enemies to fight? Would the Slabers be willing to kill their own? 

You sighed, knowing that leaving the region to join the Gibraltar team could have a potentially fatal outcome to your friends.   
You suddenly shot up, the frustration boiling your veins, as you clenched your deformed hand, feeling it oozing.   
You saw stars and stumbled, thankfully, Lùcio caught you in his arms.

“Woah, y/n, when’s the last time you rested?” Concerned, he forced you to lay on the bed, ordering you to stay still while he pilfered from the kitchen. 

You had no choice but to lay there, looking at the ceiling. He came back with a meagre meal, though it was better than nothing, bread, some beef jerky, and a tasteless soup. 

After having engulfed the food, you simply remembered your friend tucking you in, before leaving the room.   
“I wish I had time to explain, but we’ve got no time! Talon’s behind this.” Sombra grabbed your arm, her claws digging into your arm, as she threw you into an emergency exit pod.  
“We’ll come and find you just don’t-”  
You woke up with a startle, to find Lùcio studying the board. He turned on his heels, a charming smile upon his face.  
“Slept well, I hope?” He sat down on the bed, offering you a piece of flat bread, which tasted quite sugary.   
Nodding your agreement as you got up and read the newest additions to Lùcio’s work, you remembered about Mary.   
“Lù, how long have I slept ?!” You were pretty sure she was going to murder you.   
“Through the night, I don’t think my snoring disturbed you. If you’re wondering about Mary, Frank payed off your debt, as a thank you for bringing back the letters.” Explained Lùcio, amused by your panic.   
You sat down on the stool with a sigh of relief, as the door opened, revealing none other than a certain blonde with an affection for throwing stones at everything.   
“Look alive, sunshine!” Grinned the blonde woman, even warmer now that she had been paid.   
Lùcio and Mary had worked hard while you rested, they managed to pin Jenkins down and to bring him to the Saloon’s basement.   
“How come there’s a basement?” You asked, as you descended down the stairs, after having wolfed down your breakfast.  
“The Saloon was already there when the first Slabers arrived, in the 1970s, it was one of the first buildings they established.” Explained Lùcio.   
“Of course it’d be a saloon.” You sighed, while Mary squinted at you menacingly.   
“Are you callin’ us drunks?” She said, pretending to be offended.   
“Plain truth, I’m afraid.” You smirked, it couldn’t be later than 9 in the morning, and you had already seen a man knocked out in his fresh puddle of piss;   
Lùcio nodded absentmindedly, as you entered the basement to find an old man, with an odd haircut, smoking a cigarette by the end of it.  
“It’s supposed to be the other way around, Jenkins.” Sighed Mary, taking a seat on one of the dusty tables.   
The man groaned a vague acknowledgment, but kept smoking. His hands were battered, he was missing his pinky, and sported a burn scar which went from his right ear to his chin. His clothes were in terrible condition, even by Slaber standards, with more holes than cloth.   
“Brought you a little something!” Sing-sang Lùcio, throwing some bread his way. He caught it with surprising dexterity, before devouring it without uttering a word of thanks.   
“So, now that you’ve finished your meal, why don’t you tell us a little something about Forge?” You asked, leaning against the doorframe.

He suddenly spun around, eyes wide as saucers.  
“Won’t. Can’t.” His eyes faced the ground, as he mumbled a few words.   
“What was that?” Asked Mary, getting some dirt out of her nails with her knife.   
“NO!” He yelled, before curling up on himself, slowly rocking back and forth.  
“Bad place, very, very bad people. Took Ellie. Killed kiddo. Bad people.” He whispered, his voice breaking.   
You crouched in front of him.  
“Yes, they’re bad people. We are going to kill them, so they don’t hurt anyone else, okay?” You tried to make your voice as smooth and comforting as possible.   
“Too late, too late. Spreads like illness, turned us into animals.” His hands were shaking badly, as he tried to grasp yours.   
“Nothin’ you can do. Leave.” His eyes seemed almost pleading.   
“We’re not leaving until we take care of this, we are here to help.” Reassured Lùcio, laying a comforting hand upon his shoulder.   
“The Eagleborn. The Eagleborn. That’s where they are.” He started crying, before crawling underneath a table.   
“The Eagleborn?” Repeated Lùcio, getting up. “I heard that name before. We need to ask Delilah, in the museum, one of the new pieces in the art gallery has the same name.” He held out his hand to help you up, ever the gentleman. 

“Sure, leave me to take care of the batshit crazy dude, thanks guys.” Muttered Mary, though there was no trace of frustration or anger in her voice, only a tint of sadness.   
“When we’re done, there will never be another batshit crazy dude, I promise.” You spoke over your shoulder, as you left the basement, following Lùcio.  
The Museum was only a few minutes away on horseback, during the ride, Lùcio filled you in about the City’s history, but you couldn’t bring yourself to care. You needed to find out what happened, and wondered if bringing up your dreams could be of any help.   
Just when you were about to interrupt him, the Museum came into view, and you couldn’t help but stop dead in your tracks at how impressive it was. The entrance was big, and brightly coloured. Pillars which were akin to those of Antic Greece, covered in ink and splendid drawings.   
The entrance itself was made of coloured composite glass, casting intricate patterns.   
“I know, breath-taking. I wrote a song about it.” Smiled Lùcio, taking your horse’s reins, as you got down to see this wonder of creation closer.   
Inside were murals drawn upon the glass, like the stained glass of cathedrals. The light which was pouring in was colouring the hall in multiple colours, adding intensity to the black sand which acted as floor.   
“Satya would’ve either hated this or loved this.” You mused.  
“She’d have hated it, if it’s not pristine, it’s not to her taste.” Mumbled a sour Lùcio, after all, he wasn’t exactly on speaking terms with the Architect.   
You shrugged, making your way to a woman, seated in a room in the corner, drawing something on a piece of cardboard. A small plaque with her name, Vida, on it bore elegant flowers and elephants.   
“Hi, may I ask where Delilah is?” You asked politely.   
She gestured to a door leading outside, where you could see the faint hint of a car carcass.   
Your eyes hadn’t deceived you, as you entered a place where cars were half buried in the sand, and decorated with various materials, ranging from string and clothes, to wood and what seemed to be furs.   
The sight was oddly soothing, perhaps the light tinting sound enhanced this effect, seeing humanity’s most prominent works of technology buried by nature, which was, ultimately, our only ruler.   
“She’s probably in the garden.” Commented Lùcio, striding for a place you had not noticed, on your right.   
It was a gazebo, shielded from the sun by strings of glass tinting in the wind. Its roof consisted of large shards of glass covered by cloth pointing towards the sky. Your friend confidently entered the gazebo, and you followed him while trying not to trip, as you were entranced by this extraordinary setting.   
Delilah was a woman of an unusually white skin, almost transparent blue eyes, framed by frizzly blonde hair, falling all over her face, despite the messy bun which tried to keep them all together.   
Henna covered her arms up to her shoulders, and descended to her ribs, coming together before descending the expanse of her toned stomach. You stopped yourself from staring any more than you already had. While you were busy admiring her beauty, Lùcio seemed to have explained the reason of your visit.   
You extended your hand, expecting to formally introduce yourself, but as you told her your name, she took your hand and kissed it.  
“A pleasure to make your acquaintance, Y/N, I am Delilah, I take care of the sculptures, and record our history, as my mother and her mother before her did.” She got up with ethereal grace, while Lùcio was busy laughing at your speechlessness.   
She reached down for a umbrella, revealing that her henna went back up her back in intricate designs, up to her neck, which resembled a collar. You guessed that the good view you had upon her behind was no fortuity, but you decided not to eye it, however tempting that was.   
You turned to see that Lùcio was almost choking on his silent laughter. You smacked his shoulder, making him laugh even more.  
“Something wrong, Lùcio?” Asked Delilah, eyebrows raised.   
“He just choked on his spit.” You lied, glaring at him.   
Delilah handed Lùcio some water, before grabbing your arm, leading you outside. 

Even though the situation was not prone to these kind of thoughts, you couldn’t help but smile nervously, as you tried to distract yourself from your gayness.   
“We do have a sculpture named Eagleborn. I shall lead you to it, there always is a small plaque giving more information about the sculpture.” Explained Delilah, seemingly unaware of the inner turmoil she had caused within you.   
The art piece represented a smaller version of a plane, made out of scrap metal and clothes, its beak stuck in the sand, the cockpit filled with red sand.   
“According to the plaque, it’s inspired by an actual plane, from the Omnic War, the real carcass is somewhere near the mountains.” Read Delilah, while you and Lùcio were circling the aircraft, searching for answers.   
“Lù’, there were instruments to pinpoint your location on these aircrafts. We need to take the red sand out.” Lena had told you about these kinds of planes, her father flew one in the Army, during the War.   
“What’s the point? We already know where we are, we need to know where the Eagleborn is.” Lùcio was leaning against the plane.   
“But perhaps the artist indicated where the actual Eagleborn is. How recent is this one? Is the artist a resident?” You asked Delilah, as she opened the door for Lùcio to get the sand out.   
“It was made less than a week ago, by someone named…” She paused to check the plaque. “Simornella.”   
Your head wiped around.  
“Simornella? Simon and Ornella…” These names were mentioned in the letters, but if Ornella’s body had already been found, how could Simon go to Slab City, create this, and go back to the road, where the burning body had been found.   
You murmured to yourself, pacing while Lùcio was shovelling the sand out of the cockpit.   
“So, if Ornella and Simon stayed behind to hold them back, how come this was made by someone with a mix of their names? Perhaps one of their friends?” 

“Found something!” Called out Lùcio, uncrumpling a ball of paper.   
He read it out loud.   
“Ornella, I’m sorry, I couldn’t. I ran away. You fought, like you always did back when we were kids. I hid. That fucker you wounded, I’m going to chase him down, and destroy him, that’s the least I can do. To anyone reading this, please give my friends, my family, a proper end to their story. I’ve put the Forge’s body dump coordinates. I have no courage left, do what I could not, and fight back. Signed, Simon.”   
“Have you seen him?” You asked, rereading the letter.   
“No, it was submitted anonymously, Maiwen handled most of it, but I reckon she won’t be of much help.” Mused Delilah.   
“We’ve got the coordinates, we can simply wait until they dump the bodies, and trail them. Do you know anyone who would be willing to join us into this fight?” You asked Delilah, who was absentmindedly caressing the carcass.   
“I’d personally love to follow you, but my fighter days are long gone, plus, us Albinos are not exactly fond of the sun, staying under it for hours would mean my death. But, go and ask the Professor, he acts as the Mayor of Slab City, he knows best,” Advised Delilah, making her way back to her gazebo, before sparing one last look over her shoulder. “I wish you the best of luck. Thank you for doing this, this has been going for so long, people don’t feel like they can even fight back.” 

You both nodded solemnly.   
“I hope we won’t find our girls in the body dump…” Muttered Lùcio, looking off the horizon. “Go and find Mary, tell her to rally her town, I’ll speak to the Mayor, we know each other.” He added, as you made your way out of the museum.   
You untied your horse from the hitching post, before making your way to the Saloon, just as you were about to part ways, Lùcio put his hand upon yours.   
“Don’t do anything dangerous, alright? At least wait until I’m with you to start getting into trouble.” Though his tone was light and joking, you could see that the smile he plastered on his face did not reach his eyes. 

“Don’t worry Lù’, I’ll be alright, I’ve already come back from death once.” You grinned, while you parted ways. 

You met Mary at the Saloon, while she was chatting up the bartender. 

“Hey, Frank, this is Y/N, my new partner!” She seemed even more cheerful than usual, and as you saw her reddening nose, you understood the reason.

“We’ve already met, Mary.” He sighed, smiling apologetically. He was of an imposing build, wild black hair and bushy, yet trimmed beard, and was pretty good looking. Given the way Mary was staring at him, she seemed to think the exact same thing. 

You shook your head, grinning. 

“We’ve got some coordinates, The Forge’s body dump. We are planning an intervention. Know anyone willing to join the fight? We’ll need stealthy people, but who also know how to handle a weapon.” You reported, while their mood switched drastically. Frank nodded gravely, while Mary seemed to be deep in thoughts.   
“I’ll go back to the Church, and gather our best, do you want to meet here?” She got up, almost ready to leave.   
“Sure, when will you be back?”   
“Two days, I’ll gather our weapons, and bring our fighters to the Saloon. We have some pretty talented scouts.” Mary grinned fiercely.   
You nodded, while the blonde ran up to her room to gather her luggage.   
“She’s got an endless reserve of energy.” You sighed, while Frank poured you a glass of water.   
“She used to be one of their scouts, when she was a kid, before she married that John fella.” Explained Frank, finishing his own drink.  
“She never mentioned a John.”   
“They took him. He was leading a garrison, back when their town was more widespread, but that was a long time ‘go.”   
You grimaced, poor Mary. You decided to change the subject.   
“So, about the Slabers who might be willing to join us?”   
“I know quite a lot of ‘em, I’ll go and let them know. It’ll take me all day to go door-to-door though, mind taking care of the Saloon while I handle it?” Asked Frank, already grabbing his coat and hat.   
“Not at all.” You got behind the bar, there were prices indicated below it, and Frank’s shotgun.   
“I’ll see ya ‘round then. Don’t hesitate to use Jessie. That’s the gun.” He added, at your confused stare.   
A few minutes after Frank left, Mary came running back down the stairs, fingergunning your way, as she left the Saloon.   
You sighed, it was going to be a pretty uneventful day.   
Though this job couldn’t exactly qualify as boring, it gave you some time to think about your life, how much things had changed. You never thought you’d have such fire in you, so much will to conquer, to change things, to better yourself. To help others.   
Perhaps this is what it meant to be part of Overwatch. You never thought that such places might exist, that such situations could still ruin so many lives, and yet, no one knew about it. 

You wished you could call Amélie or Olivia, ask them for advice on how to handle this situation, but your communicator had been lost in the crash.  
But now that you thought about it, how did the message sent to Overwatch about Outlaws presence in the Mojave was sent? There was no signal, and no one had phones…   
Just as you were pouring a beer, Lùcio made his way into the Saloon, a slight pep to his walk.   
“Hi Lù! How’d it go?” You waved over to him, as you sent the glass flying across the counter, straight into the woman’s hands. 

He chuckled at the sight. 

“You’re getting the hang of it, we’ll have our own bartender in no time!” He grinned, taking a seat on the stool, before summarising his meeting with the Professor. 

“He’s willing to lend us some carts, and has granted us full access to the Slab City’s armoury. It’s all going according to plan!” He reached for something in his jacket’s inner pocket. “I found this in the armoury, I know a communicator is useless, especially when there’s no signal around, but perhaps they have some signal near the Forge, it might come in handy, right?” He handed over the battered piece of technology to you. 

You pocketed with a smile, before pouring your friend some drinks, telling him of your dreams about Sombra, sharing theories about the crash, and soon enough, the Saloon was filled with laughter as you drunkenly sung with the DJ, on one of the tables. 

Frank entered the bar, followed by a team of mismatched warriors, who bore scars as if they were honorifical ornaments, and missing limbs replaced with prosthesis which looked like they’d been made by salvaged components, which was surely the case. 

Frank’s eyes widened as he saw you and Lùcio, frozen on the table in laughable positions. He barked out a laugh which had more in common with a bear’s roar than an actual laugh, but his companions joined in the festivities with ferocious enthusiasm. 

The night was merry, full of drinking, dancing, and glee at the prospect of a future where people wouldn’t have to worry about their relatives or vital resources being snatched away. The room was full of smoke and the air heavy with sweat and loud noises. 

You left it to take some fresh hair outside, Frank silently joining you. He stood against the wall for a few minutes, before speaking.   
“You know, we thought of fighting back, before the Professor showed up to help us put the town back together after one nasty raid. We had a leader, Fier, he was called. But he was taken… One of our scouts found his arm by the roadside. But that was well b’fore my time.” He recalled, lighting a cigarette.   
“And you haven’t tried to fight back since?” You asked, sitting on a crate. 

“We tried, for a while, but to no avail. When fear is passed down from generation to another, even the idea of fighting back seems impossible. Unthinkable. My old man would be pissed outta his mind if he learned about what we’re doing. Hell, even Fier’s son lived in terror, like the rest of us.” He took a long drag from his cigarette, lost in thoughts.

“But that’s going to change, now. We needed a new perspective. Lùcio’s songs and speeches about freedom made us realise that we were livin’ like cattle. When ya showed up, ready to tear the fuckers apart… Well, let’s say we’re inspired, and ready to end this shit.” He looked at you, with a grin that held respect and appreciation. 

“I’ll try my best… Though this isn’t exactly my area of expertise.” You scratched the back of your neck, not used to such situations and so much hope placed in you. It wasn’t about an exam, or studies, it was a life and death situation, to see that you had such an influence was frightening and invigorating. 

“Ya kiddin’? You’ve been handling stuff pretty well.” 

You weren’t sure if it was a sudden burst under pressure, or the alcohol in your veins speaking, but you couldn’t handle it anymore and blurted out what was on your mind.  
“It’s a miracle, really, I used to be a lab assistant, but a spiral of mess and shit got me here. It’s my first real mission, and it is not exactly going well.” You confessed, shaking your head. 

Frank went slack-jawed, which made his cigarette fall onto his pants. He quickly grabbed it back and pat his trousers, alarmed.  
“So, you’re a rookie, so what? You’re rookie who managed what we couldn’t for generations: hoping for change, fighting for it. When you’ll have some more experience in you, you’ll be a force to be reckoned with, trust me.” He slapped your back with a huge grin, before urging you to go back inside, to toast to your first mission.   
Hell, it wasn’t even finished yet.   
The moonshine went to your head pretty quickly, and soon enough, you were back with Lùcio and Frank, this time, on the counter, dancing and singing even though you couldn’t exactly make out the lyrics anymore, when you had an idea, which you thought was brilliant at the time.   
But when you’re pissed drunk, any idea’s a good idea.   
You grabbed the communicator from your pocket, and opened its camera.   
“Hey, everyone, say cheese!” You yelled, more or less incoherently. You took a picture of you and the whole bar, with Lùcio and Frank’s faces on your shoulders, the DJ with his tongue out, and Frank winking obnoxiously. You messily typed ‘Slaber Life’ as a description.  
You couldn’t make out what was written, since everything was blurry, and simply pressed on random buttons. From what you recalled as you were starting to pass out in the stairway to Lùcio’s room, it was probably the local channel. Your drunken self had thought that this way, everyone could get the picture, forgetting in your fogged mind that no one had signal, nor did they have communicators lying around for the taking. 

When you woke up, at the crack of dawn, due to the uncomfortable position, the thought made you laugh. After asking the cook to prepare Mary’s cure for hangovers in large quantities for everyone, and waking Lùcio up, you went to the bathroom. 

Instinctively pulling out the communicator, as it brought a strange sense of normalcy to be checking out an electronical device while using the loo, before smiling at your silliness. You could see how many people had seen the picture. You were going to turn off the device, when you saw that one person had seen it.   
The comm slipped from your hand in your surprise, as you stood there, on the toilets, hand on your forehead, insulting your drunken self with every single insult you had ever heard in your entire life.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The next chapter is going to be around veeeeryy soon eheh. Anyways, I feel like this is one of the best things I've written so far, feels like I'm improving. Let me know what you guys think about it !

**Author's Note:**

> The first kiss with Moira is completed, don’t hesitate to leave a comment, a suggestion, or anything really, I LIVE FOR THIS. This was the first chapter of my new story, from the collection Flightless Birds, I do hope that you enjoyed reading it as much as I enjoyed writing it.   
> If you want to read more of my work, head to my tumblr, where I post a lot more often.


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